Murder of a Royal Pain

by Denise Swanson

  They were almost through the main dining area when a whoop of laughter caught Skye’s attention. She turned toward the sound and stiffened. Sitting in a dark corner at a table for two were Simon and Jackie. Skye couldn’t see Simon’s face, which was in a shadow, but Jackie’s was animated and glowing with happiness.

  Skye jerked her gaze away, taking a hasty step forward and silently urging Wally to speed up, and he quickened his steps.

  As they drove back to Scumble River, Skye convinced herself that what she felt wasn’t jealousy, just astonishment. She had rushed Wally out of Merichka’s because she was eager to be in his arms, not because she didn’t want to see Simon with another woman.

  Still, how had Jackie managed to meet Simon, and wasn’t it strange that Simon and Jackie had picked the same movie and restaurant that Skye and Wally had chosen? What were the odds of that happening? In a small town like Scumble River—population thirty-three hundred—it could be a coincidence, but not here in the much larger city of Crest Hill. Was Simon following her?

  The next week melted away like a snowman in a sauna. It wasn’t merely that Skye was busy, although she was, but that she also seemed to lose chunks of time staring into space and feeling discontented. She couldn’t pinpoint what was bothering her, but plainly something was. At first she had blamed it on PMS, but her moodiness had lasted too long to be caused by monthly hormone fluctuations.

  Driving to school on Monday morning, Skye vowed to be more focused and optimistic. She had a great life, and she’d better stop moping around before she messed it up. She needed to quit allowing things she couldn’t control to upset her, and to seek out her friends more, rather than locking herself away in her office or house.

  Unfortunately, her resolution didn’t last much past the high school’s front door, where Homer was waiting for her. He pounced on her like a crocodile on a lion cub, chomping through her pledge to be upbeat with a single bite.

  Taking her arm, he commanded, “We need to resolve this Travis Idell mess. His mother is camped out at the superintendant’s office, and Dr. Wraige is not happy.”

  “The intake conference is set up for Thursday.” A meeting Skye was dreading.

  She had read the reports that Mrs. Idell had brought her, and, as Travis’s mother had claimed, the private psychiatrist who had examined the teen had diagnosed him with a learning disability. But the doctor hadn’t provided the results of his assessments, and Skye couldn’t determine if he had even done any psychological evaluations—psychiatrists often didn’t. He also hadn’t returned Skye’s phone calls. To make matters worse, when she’d examined the boy’s school records, none of the group tests or any other information in his file supported the doctor’s conclusion.

  “She wants to meet today.” Homer mopped his head with a bright red handkerchief. “She’ll be here for a Promfest meeting after school, and wants to meet right before that. She says two would be convenient.”

  “Maybe for her.” Skye plucked her calendar out of her tote bag and flipped it open to October fourth. “I have an appointment at the grade school with the kindergarten teachers at one. I don’t think I can make it back here by two.”

  “You can talk with teachers anytime.” Homer waved away her objection, turned, and walked away, hollering over his shoulder, “Dr. Wraige wants us to humor this woman and get her off his back.”

  The rest of the day passed as it had begun—badly—and Skye had a throbbing headache by the time she arrived for the Idell meeting. As she took her seat, she glanced around the table, noting that only Mrs. Idell made eye contact, and her glare intensified Skye’s pain. None of the staff, which included the principal, nurse, social worker, special education teacher, and English chairperson, looked up from the papers they were all studying.

  Homer cleared his throat and said, “Let’s hear your information, Ms. Denison.”

  Mrs. Idell nodded as Skye summarized what the psychiatrist had written, and she smiled when Skye noted that on the group ability test Travis had scored in the superior range. On the group achievement tests, he was above grade level.

  But the woman’s glare returned when Skye brought up her concern over the lack of assessment data in the psychiatrist’s report, and she snapped, “Are you telling me you think you know more than a medical doctor?”

  “That’s not what I said.” Skye kept her voice even. “I said that considering that Travis has a superior IQ, is achieving at a commensurate level, and is passing all his classes, a learning disability is not indicated according to the state and federal guidelines as they exist now.”

  “So you’re excluding him from services?”

  “Not necessarily. Perhaps the psychiatrist did have testing done, and perhaps those results do indicate that Travis is LD, but that information is not in the report you gave me, and the doctor has not returned my calls.”

  “You’re telling me we spent twenty-five hundred dollars”—Mrs. Idell’s voice shrieked like a noon factory whistle—“and you’re not going to give my son the help he needs?”

  “Not at all. What I’m saying is that I need to see some details so I can figure out what type of services he requires.” Skye scooted her chair as far away as possible from the irate woman.

  “I’m sick of jumping through hoops for you and this sorry excuse for a school.” Mrs. Idell pounded on the table. “Either Travis starts receiving help tomorrow morning, or I’m going to make all of you sorry—especially you, Ms. Denison.”

  CHAPTER 6

  Moments Like These

  “That went well.” Homer sneered. He and Skye had moved to her office after Mrs. Idell had stormed away. “Just stick the little bugger in special ed. It would serve him and his mother right.”

  Skye closed her eyes in an attempt to find her happy place, counted to ten, and bit her tongue, but she still blurted out, “Have I been talking to myself for the past four years? We can’t simply slap a student in special education. We need data to back up the decision. And it would not ‘serve him and his mother right.’ He needs counseling, which I’ve offered to provide on numerous occasions, and she and her husband need parenting classes, which you refuse to let me suggest to them.”

  “Okay, okay, already.” Homer scowled. “You know I was only kidding.” He paused in his pacing and stared down at Skye, who was seated behind her desk. “You’re not usually this touchy. Something wrong?”

  “No.” Skye blew out a lungful of air. “Everything’s fine. I’m sorry I lost my temper.”

  “Good. We don’t have time for you to be having some sort of breakdown.”

  “Right.” Skye kept a straight face. “The school year must go on.”

  “Glad you’re on board.” Homer resumed his pacing, then spun on his heel and marched over to Skye. “Okay, here’s what we’ll do. Since you have such a bad history with the Idells, I’ll assign Jackie to be case manager. From now on she’ll handle all parent contact. You keep trying to pin down that damn psychiatrist.”

  Skye frowned, a protest on her lips, then reconsidered. Homer had a point. She had never managed to establish a rapport with the Idells; it made sense to let Jackie try. “That’s a great idea.” Skye hid a small grin. Besides, if the new social worker failed, it would prove that it wasn’t only Skye with whom the parents had problems.

  “Then it’s settled. I’ll have a talk with Jackie and bring her up to speed.” Homer stood. “She’s doing a fantastic job. I’m sure she can fix this mess, too.”

  Homer scurried from the room before Skye could respond. She stared at the closed door for a second, then glanced at the wall clock. Her headache was nearing migraine level, and she had to be at the Promfest meeting in fifteen minutes.

  She opened her bottom drawer and stared at its contents. Nestled side by side were a bottle of Aleve and a fresh package of Double Stuf Oreos—she had finished off the previous cookies last Friday. Would a pill or a cookie get her through the meeting without her head exploding?

  Who was she kiddin
g? She’d been eating a half dozen Oreos every afternoon this past week. Skye had ignored Jackie when she’d kidded Skye about being addicted. But now as Skye reached for the medicinal chocolate wafers with the oh-so-soothing cream center, she wondered if Jackie might be right.

  No, Skye comforted herself. Of course not. Everyone knows that a balanced diet consists of a cookie in each hand. With that assurance in mind, she twisted the first one apart and licked the frosting out of the middle. Sighing, she felt herself relax for the first time since she’d arrived at school. After devouring five more of the healing cookies, she was ready to face the Promfest committee.

  Annette Paine had complained about the picnic table–type seating in the cafeteria, so this meeting was being held in the home ec room. The chairwoman probably wouldn’t consider it much of an improvement. Although there were regular chairs, the room was crowded with sewing machines, stoves, washer/dryer combos, and refrigerators.

  Actually, Skye didn’t think the queen bee would be satisfied with anything less than a suite at the Ritz-Carlton. Skye smiled meanly, thinking, Welcome to the world of public education, where the motto is “Thou shalt not spend the taxpayers’ money on comfort or decor.”

  Although Skye arrived a few minutes early, nearly every seat was already taken. There were only two empty spots, and one was next to Zinnia Idell. Shit! Skye’s gaze moved to the other opening. Crap! That seat was next to Kurt Michaels—much more agreeable company, but potentially just as dangerous. Skye shook her head. She was being silly. Kurt probably flirted with all women. Still, Wally had thought there was something shady about the reporter, and his instincts were usually on target. She hesitated; there were no good options.

  Before Skye could decide what to do, Annette moved to the front of the room and called the meeting to order. She shot Skye an irritated look, and Skye scurried over to the seat next to Kurt.

  As she pulled in her chair, he gave her a teasing smile. “Good choice.”

  “What?”

  “I hear Zinnia Idell would like to kill you.”

  “How did you hear that?” Skye’s tone was irritated. Geesh, the whole brouhaha only happened half an hour ago.

  “She got here fifteen minutes ago, and has been telling anyone who would listen how awfully you and the school are treating her.” Kurt kept his voice low as Annette asked for the last meeting’s minutes to be read.

  “Great.” Skye slumped down, trying to become invisible. “No wonder they’re all looking at me funny.”

  Kurt leaned closer and whispered in her ear, “Pretend you don’t notice.”

  “Easy for you to say.”

  “Anyway, I was saving this place for you.”

  “Me? Why?”

  “Because I wanted you to sit next to me.”

  “Oh.” Skye stopped herself from smoothing her hair. Had she even combed it since that morning? “Sorry, I still don’t have any gossip for you, so I can’t pay my debt yet.”

  “I’m a patient guy. I can wait.” Kurt flashed his dimples. “Something will come up.”

  Annette moved on to the treasurer’s report, and Skye asked Kurt, “What are you doing here, anyway?”

  “Same as last time. Looking for a good story.”

  “Here?” Skye shook her head. “You know the definition of a committee, don’t you?”

  He shook his head.

  “A group that keeps minutes and wastes hours.” Skye grinned. “You write about this stuff and you’ll put your readers to sleep.”

  “I’m not interested in the meeting per se, but the conversations before and after are usually good for a paragraph or two.”

  “Oh.” Did that mean he was going to write about what Mrs. Idell had said?

  “No.” As he had the day he fixed her tire, he seemed to read her mind. “I’m not putting Zinnia Idell’s ravings in my column.”

  “Thank you.” Skye tuned her attention back to the meeting.

  Annette was now exhorting people to work on the haunted house. Skye sank lower in her chair, attempting to avoid eye contact with the woman, but Annette’s stare had zeroed in on her. Skye was frantically trying to think of a good reason she couldn’t volunteer when the home ec room’s door flew open, and Jackie hurried in.

  Annette snapped, “You’re late, Ms. . . . ?”

  “I’m Jackie Jennings, the new social worker.” Jackie smiled apologetically. “I’m so sorry; there was a crisis, and the kids come first.”

  “Yes, of course they do. Take a seat, Ms. Jennings.” Annette waited as Jackie sat next to Mrs. Idell. “I was asking for volunteers to be a part of our haunted-house fund-raiser.”

  Jackie’s hand shot into the air. “I’d love to help.”

  “Super.” Annette turned to Evie Harrison and handed her a clipboard with a pen attached. “Here. Make yourself useful and send the sign-up sheet around.”

  As Evie complied with an exaggerated smile, Skye said to Kurt, “I’m amazed that Evie agreed to be Annette’s assistant. I thought she’d quit the committee after Annette forced her out of the chairmanship.”

  “I asked her about that, and Evie said she was doing it just in case Annette couldn’t fulfill her duties. Evie wanted to be positioned to take over.” Kurt raised his right eyebrow a fraction. “She still has hopes of getting her daughter elected prom queen, and I’m going to find out what her plan is.”

  “Interesting.” Skye teased, “I’ll keep my eye on your column for breaking news.”

  Annette had been watching Evie pass around the haunted-house sign-up sheet, and as woman after woman waved it away, she glared and said, “My own husband will be taking time from his busy dental practice to play the role of Frankenstein, and my lovely daughter will be sacrificing her dance lessons in order to be the zombie cheerleader captain.”

  Skye was surprised. Dylan Paine was her dentist, but she hadn’t realized he was Annette’s husband. They seemed like an odd couple—he was cheerful and easygoing, and she was intense and never seemed satisfied.

  Annette continued, “Our newest committee member, Jackie, is a wonderful example, and our initial volunteers have done a magnificent job building the haunted house. Now it’s time for the rest of you to do your parts. We need ticket sellers, sound and light techs, actors, and people to perform a myriad of other little tasks. I expect everyone here to step up to the plate and take one of these jobs.”

  Skye scowled at the mention of Jackie’s name. What in the heck was she doing here, anyway?

  Forty minutes later, after announcing that their next fund-raiser would be the Christmas House Walk, making a wish list of business donations, and bullying everyone into agreeing that the Promfest colors would be baby blue and silver, Annette ended the meeting.

  As the crowd surged toward the door, Skye made her way to Jackie and tapped her on the shoulder. “Hi, I’m surprised to see you here. Usually only one faculty member attends this type of committee meeting.”

  “Uh . . .” Jackie blinked. “Well . . . Homer told me you hated this assignment, and, uh, I said I’d do it.”

  “He didn’t mention that to me when I saw him right before coming here.”

  “Oh.” Jackie edged backward. “Maybe I misunderstood. But I can’t back out now.”

  “Sure you can.”

  “I’m not going to.”

  “Suit yourself.” Skye shrugged, walked away, and joined the line of people trying to exit.

  Kurt materialized by Skye’s side, his thigh and arm brushing hers. “So that’s the new social worker everyone’s talking about.”

  “That’s her.” Skye felt an unwelcome sizzle from his touch. “What are they saying about her?”

  “She seems to have made quite an impression in a short time. People think she’s charming. They say she’s ready to do anything she can for you.” Kurt craned his neck. “What’s the holdup over there?”

  Skye peeked around the group in front of them. “Annette is checking everyone against some list before they’re allowed
to leave.”

  “Good thing I’m not in a hurry.” A mischievous gleam lit his denim blue eyes.

  “Yes. You should circulate.” Skye kept her gaze focused on the woman in front of her. “I’ll bet you’d overhear a lot of good gossip.”

  “The only thing everyone’s talking about is what a pain in the butt Annette is being about Promfest. Everything has to be her way or the highway.” He gave Skye a sexy little grin. “But thanks for looking out for me. I kind of thought you didn’t approve of my writing, but maybe my delightful personality has won you over.”

  “That must be it.” Skye attempted to infuse her words with sarcasm, but felt her cheeks flame. She looked away and was relieved to see that only one person stood between her and the exit.

  “So, what are you doing after—”

  Skye stepped up to the door, and Annette’s voice cut off whatever Kurt had been about to say. “Ms. Denison, I see you haven’t signed up to help with A Ghoul’s Night Out. You were doubtlessly distracted by the Star’s handsome new reporter when the sign-up sheet was being passed.”

  Skye narrowed her eyes. What was Annette implying? “Well, I . . . uh . . . that is—”

  “It’s probably an oversight,” Annette cooed. “After all, considering how magnanimous your colleague Jackie is being with her time, I’m sure you’ll want to be equally generous.”

  Shoot! It hadn’t occurred to Skye that with Jackie volunteering so publicly, there was no way she could refuse to help without looking bad. “Right.”

  “Super.” Annette smiled, revealing pointy canines. “Here’s the sheet.”

  At the thought of being inside a haunted house, Skye’s heart raced and her pulse pounded. She took a deep breath and told herself it would be fine. She’d just make sure she signed up for something outside the actual building. She peered at the list. Nearly all the jobs had been taken. The only places with blanks were under “Cast.” Her options were either a witch or Countess Dracula.