"Okay, Mom, I'll see what I can do. I'm not sure where to start, though."
"You'll have to find out about Honey. Try to discover where she's been all these years and why someone would want her dead." May's eyes searched the room for something else to clean.
"Any idea where I should begin that little task?"
Apparently sarcasm was wasted on May. "At the beginning. Go talk to Charlie. He knows more than he's saying."
The only light on at the Up A Lazy River Motor Court was in Charlie's cabin. Even the parking lot lay in darkness. Skye glanced at her watch. It was a little past eight, not too late for a visit. Waiting on the step after ringing the doorbell, she remembered how, when she was growing up,
doors weren't locked in Scumble River and friends just walked in unannounced.
What was taking Charlie so long? The cabin was tiny, having only a bedroom, kitchenette, living room, and bath. She was beginning to get a bad feeling when a car turned into the parking lot, its lights momentarily blinding her.
With a sensation of relief, she saw Charlie get out of the car and heard him say, "Thanks for the ride, Eldon. See you tomorrow."
When Charlie spotted Skye standing on the step, he hurried toward her. "Skye, honey, what are you doing waiting out here like a door-to-door salesman? Don't you remember where I keep the key? You should've let yourself in."
"That's okay. I just got here. When I saw the light, I thought you were home."
Charlie frowned. "I don't remember leaving a light on, but of course my memory's not what it used to be, and after these past few days ..."
"Uncle Charlie, I'm so sorry. I had no idea about Honey."
Shrugging, Charlie unlocked the door and stood aside to let Skye enter first. She let out a gasp and stopped dead in her tracks. Charlie pushed in behind her and halted too. The cabin had been ransacked. All the cushions had been sliced open and stuffing was spilling out; the chairs were upended, their bottoms also slashed. Pictures were torn off the walls, their glass smashed and the photographs shredded into confetti. The carpet had been ripped up at the corners and dragged to the middle of the room.
Silently they moved to the kitchen. There the cupboard doors stood agape, dishes and glasses shattered on the floor, and food smeared on the counter. A window over the sink was open, and jelly footprints indicated that this was the way the person had entered and exited the cabin.
They found the bedroom and bath in similar shape. Charlie appeared to be in shock, all of his seventy years ev-
ident in his face. He sank down on the bed and buried his head in his hands.
Even as Skye dialed the police, she knew she shouldn't have touched the telephone. But no fingerprints had been found in Mrs. Gumtree's trailer, according to her mother's report, and she certainly wasn't leaving Charlie there alone while she located another phone.
Chief Boyd and Officer Quirk arrived with sirens blaring and lights flashing. Skye and Charlie were hustled out of the cabin. They climbed into Skye's car. Charlie sat with his head leaning against the back of the seat. Skye battled her conscience. One part of her wanted to leave Charlie alone, while another part of her said this was the perfect time to get information.
The practical side won. "Mom's really worried about Vince being arrested for Honey's murder."
Without opening his eyes, Charlie said, "So am I. Honey always did manage to stir things up. I guess now she's doing it from the grave."
"I know this isn't the time, but would you mind telling me about Honey? I only remember her a little."
Rubbing his eyes with his knuckles, Charlie straightened. "It isn't all that strange that you hardly remember her. To begin with, Honey was completely selfish and had no interest in other females. At fourteen you probably didn't even exist to her. Also, your parents and I agreed that she wasn't someone we'd have wanted you to have as a role model. You may have run into her only once or twice."
"But if Vince dated her, wouldn't P have seen her more often?"
"Vince kept his relationship with Honey pretty quiet. Your parents and I didn't find out about it until the end."
Turning toward Charlie, Skye sat with one knee tucked under her, and her arm along the back of the seat. "How did she end up in Scumble River?"
"Honey's mother was my younger sister. There were only the two of us left from my family, so when she and her husband were killed in an auto accident there was nowhere else for Honey to go. Her father had no family at all."
"Is it true she was uncontrollable? Was that a reaction to her parents' deaths?"
Charlie shook his head. "No, as a matter of fact, her parents were looking into a military-type boarding school for Honey the day they were killed."
"Do you remember the details of their accident?"
"Their brakes failed, and they were hit by a tractor-trailer truck."
Skye whistled. "How awful. I'm sure that losing her parents in such a dreadful way contributed to her problems here."
"Maybe, but Honey wouldn't talk to the therapist I took her to, and her behavior when she lived with me sounded just like her mother had described it."
"People have said she was ... ah, sexually active. Do you know the names of her partners?" Skye couldn't meet his eyes.
Charlie's face turned red. "No. Back then things like that were kept more quiet." Charlie hesitated. "Honey did spend a lot of time with Mike Young. I suspected she was getting drugs from him."
"Interesting. Can you think of anyone else she spent time with?"
"No, when she first got here she behaved pretty good for the first couple of months. She got on the Softball team and spent a lot of time at practices and games, which kept her out of trouble. Then, about Thanksgiving, she hooked up with Mike, and after that she seemed to run through a bunch of boys, one after the other. She started with Vince around Valentine's Day, and her behavior improved again."
"Did Honey tell you she was leaving?" Noticing the
sweat on Charlie's brow, Skye leaned across him and opened the window.
"No. I came home after the graduation ceremony, and all her things were gone. She took my car and all the petty cash, about two hundred dollars."
"Did you call the police?"
He looked away. "No. I was glad she was gone. It seemed a cheap price to pay, two hundred bucks and an old clunker, to get my peaceful life back."
Skye patted him on the arm. "You just tell me to mind my own business if I'm getting too personal here or there's something you don't want to answer." She waited, but when Charlie didn't say anything she went on. "Where did Honey go to school before she moved here?"
"Bogart? No, Bogan High School on the south side of Chicago."
"What do you know about her more recent life?"
Charlie kneaded the fingers of one hand with the other. "Only what her agent told me when she called. Honey owned a condo on the Gold Coast in the Raven Building. She spent most of her time either taping her TV show or out on the road promoting it. The agent said Honey didn't seem to have any friends and work was her life."
"That's pretty sad. Will her agent be coming down for the funeral?"
"Yeah. I'm supposed to call her once the arrangements are made. She said Honey's producer and publicist will be coming too."
Having covered everything but the inheritance, Skye found her resolve faltering. She decided to take the plunge before Chief Boyd or Officer Quirk came to talk to them and ruined the moment. Charlie might not be so forthcoming tomorrow when the shock wore off.
"Chief Boyd mentioned that you were Honey's beneficiary. Were you surprised?"
Charlie gripped Skye's knee so hard that it frightened her. "You have to believe me, I hadn't seen or talked to Honey since the day she left here. I can't imagine why she left me her money. My gut feeling says that that money is going to bring me nothing but pain and heartache."
CHAPTER 12
A Taste of Honey
Chief Boyd finally allowed Skye to go home, just
before midnight. He questioned her and Charlie separately, making each wait while he talked to the other. When the county sheriff's technicians were finished, he also insisted that Charlie go through the cabin and make a list of everything that had been taken. Charlie wasn't missing a single thing.
The phone started ringing the next morning at five-thirty. Skye was having a nightmare about police cars, so the shrilling of the phone merged into the sirens of her dreams, and it took her some time to understand what was going on.
"Hello?" she mumbled, still not fully awake.
Her mother said anxiously, "Where were you last night? I tried to reach you until almost midnight."
At the sound of May's voice Skye sat up and swung her feet to the floor. "When I got to Charlie's, his cabin had been vandalized. The police kept me until nearly twelve o'clock."
"Oh, my God! Are you all right? Is Charlie okay?" May's voice cracked.
"We're fine. No one was home when it happened. Nothing was missing, but Charlie's pretty upset."
"I'll bake him a pie this morning and go visiting this afternoon."
"That sounds good. He probably needs help cleaning up, too. I'll stop after work and do that," Skye said.
"You just concentrate on your new job and clearing Vince. I'll clean up at Charlie's. It won't take long, his place is so small."
"Okay, Mom, but don't overdo." Skye waited for a reply. "Do you hear me?"
"Yes, I hear you. Just remember I'm not an old lady yet." With that pronouncement May returned to her original purpose in calling. "So, did you find out anything from Charlie?"
"You called me at five-thirty in the morning to ask me that?"
"I wanted to catch you before you left for school. Tonight I'm working the three-to-eleven shift, so if you need any information, let me know."
Skye itched to remind May, once again, that she didn't have to be at school until seven-thirty, but realizing that her mom only heard what she wanted to hear, she said instead, "Let me think about it. I'll call you back in half an hour."
After showering and making herself a cup of tea, Skye sat and thought about what she'd learned from Charlie last night. Mm, Honey was in trouble before she got to Scumble River, which makes it safe to assume that she didn 't change when she moved away. It's also interesting that Honey hung around with Mike Young during his druggie period. And why doesn't anyone seem to know a thing about a child?
Skye decided she wanted May to use the police computers to find out about Mr. and Mrs. Adair's accident and Mike Young's arrest record. Meanwhile, she was going to talk to some of the people who would have been in high school during Honey's senior year.
A low-pressure system had rolled in during the night, and the predawn skies were overcast and threatening rain. It was only eighty degrees, but the humidity remained near
100 percent. Skye's sinuses were throbbing, and she knew there would be a thunderstorm before the end of the day.
Her schedule called for Thursday mornings at the elementary school, because of the PPS meeting at seven-thirty. Thanks to May's early wake-up call, Skye arrived in plenty of time. She had been told by Caroline Green, the principal, that the meetings were held in the special education classroom.
Standing awkwardly by the door, Skye was unsure of where to sit or what to do. She surveyed the room. Twelve desks were arranged in three pods of four each. The chairs were of molded orange plastic, designed for the height and build of six- and seven-year-old children. The sole adult chair was behind the teacher's desk.
Only a few minutes passed before Abby arrived, followed closely by two other women.
"Skye, have you met everyone?" Abby started to take the chairs off the top of the student desks.
"No, I haven't."
Abby pointed to the woman at the teacher's desk, who was dressed in a full denim skirt and a white oxford-cloth blouse. "This is Yvonne Smith, the special education teacher." Turning to the other woman, who was now seated, Abby continued, "And this is Belle Whitney, the speech therapist."
Smiling, Skye sat down next to Belle. "I'm Skye Deni-son, the new psychologist."
Yvonne was what most people pictured when they thought of an elementary school teacher—round and soft, with a halo of gray-brown curls and a smiling face.
She carried the teacher chair over to where Skye was sitting, then settled in and patted Skye on the arm. "Nice to meet you. I hope we'll see a lot of you down here. I could sure use some new ideas. The kids seem to get tougher every year."
Belle nodded. "Yes, and each year there are more kids who need help."
The speech therapist looked like a whipped-cream factory that had exploded. She wore her pale-blond hair in elaborate curls and waves. Her white dress was made of a gauzy material, with rows of ruffles around the neck, sleeves, and hem. Even her eyeglasses had loops and curlicues on the frames.
Skye looked at her watch. It was quarter to eight. "Does the principal usually attend these meetings?"
"If she remembers," Abby answered. "I didn't put a note in her box this time, so she probably won't show. We might as well get started." Abby flipped open her notebook.
"Okay, I'll go first." Yvonne poised her pencil over the list she had put on the table. "Since this is only our ninth day of school, I don't have any kids to discuss, but the kindergarten teachers have asked for help with a fall screening."
"What kind of help? Help administering the test?" Skye leaned over to look at Yvonne's paper.
Yvonne nodded. "That, too, but first they need a test to administer."
"They don't like the instrument they have now? Do you know if they're looking for something that measures readiness skills or processing abilities?" Skye rummaged in her tote, looking for a test catalog.
Yvonne laughed, not unkindly. "We've never had kindergarten screening before. There is no test to like or dislike. They probably don't even know what they want to assess. My advice would be to start with something that tells them if the kids are ready for kindergarten. Looking at memory or the ability to distinguish one sound from another is more information than they would know what to do with at this point."
"Oh." Skye was overwhelmed by the idea of single-handedly setting up a screening for 150 five-year-olds. "I guess I'd better talk to the kindergarten teachers myself."
She flipped through her appointment book. "How about next Tuesday before school?"
After making a note, Yvonne patted Skye's arm again. "Don't worry, I'll let them know that's when you're free and they'll be there."
"I'd like to attend too, if that's okay?" Belle looked up from her own appointment book. "Since I have to screen all kindergartners for speech and language delays anyway, maybe we can pick a test that will do double duty."
"That would be great." Skye's pencil hovered. "Is Tuesday morning all right with you?"
"It's fine. I'll bring some test catalogs." Belle made a note in the margin of her book.
Abby said, "I'll be doing the vision and hearing screenings on Monday."
"Do you screen the whole school?" asked Skye.
"Almost. I test all the kids in special education, all the kindergartners, all the new kids who have moved in, and all of the third and fifth grades."
"Is there anything else? It's almost nine o'clock, so the kids will be here any minute." Yvonne stood.
Skye handed each of the women a list of twenty-six names. "These are the children who are past due for reeval-uation. We all have a part in the case study, so I wanted to know what timetable you all would like to follow in getting these assessments up to code."
"Well, I don't have any part in a case study," Yvonne said, picking up her chair.
Skye tried to decide the best way of phrasing her request. "I know you haven't been consulted in the past, but that really was a waste of knowledge. Who knows these kids better than you? We need your input, and I was thinking that maybe you could do the section titled 'Current Educational Functioning.'"
"But I
wouldn't have any idea how to write that type of report." Yvonne let the chair drop.
"I'll give you a model to go by." It was Skye's turn to pat Yvonne's arm.
After a moment Yvonne nodded. "Okay, I've always said you guys didn't listen enough to what the teacher had to say about the student you were evaluating. I guess it's time to put my money where my mouth is. This will give me a chance to be heard."
Skye was surprised at how easy that had been. She turned to Abby. "Lloyd mentioned that you do the health history, since we don't have a social worker, and I do the adaptive part. Is this how it works in all the schools?"
"That's how we've done it in the past. But I was thinking—I have to talk to the parents anyway, so if you gave me the social history form you want to use, I could ask them the questions on it and you could use that for your report. It would save both you and the parents some time."
"I'd owe you big time. I was dreading that aspect of the job. Why don't they hire a social worker?" Skye looked at all three women.
"We've tried," Abby answered. "We put ads in the professional social work journals and the Chicago newspapers. Last year we even sent a representative to the school social worker convention. Not one person signed up to be interviewed."
"But why?" Skye asked. "The salary is a little low, but not that far out of alignment."
Abby and Belle looked at each other. Abby nudged Belle with her elbow. "I think we've been blackballed."
Everyone laughed.
"Seriously, the social workers we've had since I've been here wanted everything to be their own way, and that's just not going to happen in Scumble River. When you add the fact that they were all outsiders, and no one in town would tell them anything ..." Abby looked to the others for confirmation.
Belle nodded. "I've lived here for ten years, and people
are only now beginning to trust me. And I don't ask them personal questions."
"It is an advantage, having lived here all of my life." Abby stood. "Half the time I don't even have to ask questions, I already know all the dirt."
Skye tapped the list she was holding. "Back to my original question. When, and at what rate, are we going to tackle this list?"
Murder of a Small-Town Honey srm-1 Page 10