Curious, and more than a bit concerned, Skye hurried out of the bedroom, closed the door, and said, “Hi, Earl. What’s up?”
“Miz Skye?” The connection was poor and Earl’s voice crackled. “Are you by yourself?”
“Except for CJ and Eva in the next room.” Skye found herself glancing around as if someone might have snuck inside the RV while she was putting the twins to sleep. “Why?”
“I needs you to come get me, right now,” Earl panted. “I cain’t be found here.”
“Where?” Skye’s heart thudded. “What’s wrong?”
What had Earl done now? And why would he call Skye and not one of his kinfolk for a ride? Maybe he’d been in a wreck. But in that case, one of his relatives would still have been a better choice.
“Miz Skye.” Earl started to sob. “I’m in real bad trouble and you’re the only one that can help.”
“But I don’t have a sitter.” As soon as the words left her mouth, Skye wondered how many times in the future she’d be saying that. “I guess I could bring the babies.”
“No!” Earl yelped. “Cain’t your ma watch ’em, or the chief’s pa?”
“I’ll try to find someone.” Skye remembered that Carson had mentioned stopping by sometime that morning to see the progress on the new house. “Where are you?”
Earl named an address in one of the swankier areas of Scumble River. The houses were all built on two-acre wooded lots and cost close to a million.
Earl’s voice squawked in Skye’s ear. “I ain’t got no car, so I’ll be hiding.” Then before she could ask him any more questions, he disconnected.
Skye immediately called her father-in-law and explained the situation. He wasn’t thrilled that she was going out to rescue Earl, and downright unhappy she was doing it on her own. But after she explained how often Earl had saved her, Carson acquiesced on the condition that Skye agree to his security detail accompanying her and promise to press the app on her cell if she needed help from them.
She gave in with the caveat that they kept their distance. With negotiations completed, Carson said he’d be there as soon as he could.
Her father-in-law arrived fifteen minutes later. An older version of Wally, he strode inside the RV and swept Skye into a hug, then hung his coat in the foyer closet.
“I still don’t like you going to rescue Earl Doozier,” Carson grumbled.
“I’ll be fine. Your bodyguards will be with me.” Skye rushed to the door, adding over her shoulder, “Thanks for babysitting!”
Dashing to her SUV before Carson could follow her and continue his objections, Skye unlocked the door and threw her tote bag on the seat. As she headed toward the ritzy subdivision, she used the hands-free feature in the Mercedes to phone Earl.
The call kept going to voicemail, and by the time Skye approached the house number that Earl had given her, her pulse was racing. Would she find the man hurt—or worse—when she got there?
As Skye turned into the driveway and got out of the SUV something moved near the side of the large two-story house, and from the shadows an Earl-like voice whispered, “Psst. Miz Skye. Over yonder.”
Skye stepped off the pavement and onto the grass, then blinked when she got a look at the man speaking to her. Why in the world was Earl wearing a turkey costume?
Before Skye could fully grasp the sight in front of her, Earl grabbed her hand and started pulling her toward the backyard.
“Wait a minute!” Skye tried to drag her heels, but for a skinny little guy with a potbelly, Earl was stronger than she figured.
He yanked her into a metal shed and closed the door. Dim light poured through dirty windows and Skye was concerned to see sweat dripping from under the bright red turkey head perched on top of Earl’s own cranium. The yellow plastic beak bobbed as he spoke.
“Miz Skye, you gots to get me out of here.” He clutched the orange feathers over his chest and said, “I’m a cooked goose if anyone sees me.”
Skye didn’t correct his choice of fowl, but instead asked, “Why are you dressed that way?”
“It’s my new business.” Earl grinned, his tail feathers wagging. “I’s selling Turkeygrams.” He strutted around the small space on his yellow foam turkey feet. “Folks order a turkey cake for their friends and kinfolk.”
“Turkey cake?” Skye wrinkled her forehead, hoping he meant a cake shaped like a turkey, not a cake made out of turkey.
“Yep.” Earl continued to swagger in front of her on scrawny legs that Skye had to admit went well with his costume. “The cake has chocolate, vanilla, and our secret flavor, and one of my Turkettes deliver it.”
“Turkettes?”
“All the Doozier women”—Earl scratched under his wing—“’cept for MeMa, who’s bakin’ the cakes, dress in sexy turkey costumes to make the deliveries.”
“Sexy turkey costumes?” Skye couldn’t stop herself from repeating what Earl said.
“Yous know.” Earl thumped Skye’s arm. “Short little feather skirts and those busty things.”
“Bustiers?”
“Uh. Huh.”
Feeling dazed, Skye tried to clarify. “So you’re going door-to-door to sell these Turkeygrams that your MeMa is baking, and the rest of your female relatives are delivering dressed as turkey strippers?”
“Yep.” Earl beamed, then frowned. “It was goin’ real good until I got to this house.” He pointed through the shed’s tiny window.
Skye squinted, but as far as she could see everything looked normal. In fact, the yard looked as if it were ready for a photo shoot in Better Homes and Gardens.
There was an enclosed in-ground pool, a lavish deck containing expensive-looking outdoor furniture, and a huge princess castle playhouse surrounded by a pink picket fence.
However, clearly since a man dressed like Thanksgiving dinner had her hiding in a toolshed, something was wrong. But did she really want to know what it was?
Giving in to the inevitable, Skye asked, “What happened?”
“No one answered the door, but there was a car in the driveway and I heared somethin’ back yonder so’s I walked around the house and poked around a mite, then I saw her.”
“Saw who?” Skye asked, once again not sure she really wanted to know.
“I’s guessin’ the lady of the house.” Earl’s Adam’s apple bobbled.
“What was she doing?” Skye asked, hoping it wasn’t something risqué.
“Nothin’.” Earl’s gaze searched Skye’s face. “She’s deader than a revenuer trying to close down a still.”
She fought to keep her expression neutral. “Could you have had too much to drink and imagined it?”
“In dog beers, I only had one.” Earl laughed hysterically at his joke.
“So you’re positive?”
“I’s pretty durn sure,” Earl said, the red turkey head wobbling in time with his nods. “There’s a butcher knife stickin’ out of the side of her head, so even iffen she’s a zombie, she’s dead.”
Chapter 6
Leaving Home Ain’t Easy
“Did you see anyone else around?” Skye slid her cell phone from her jean’s pocket, ready to call for help, but Earl grabbed her wrist.
“There ain’t been nary a creature stirrin’ since I was back here.”
“Are you sure?” Skye asked, looking over her shoulder as if she expected someone swinging a machete to spring out from behind the huge riding mower behind her. “Maybe they’re hiding in the house.”
“The back door was unlocked so I moseyed around in there afore I called you.” Earl shrugged at Skye’s gasp. “Don’t worry none about me, Miz Skye. I’m always packin’ and I didn’t touch nothing.”
He pulled up the bottom of his costume and Skye saw a handgun tucked into Earl’s camo boxer shorts. Thank goodness that was all she saw before he dropped the turkey suit
back into place.
Skye still held her phone ready to call Wally, but just in case Earl was having a psychotic break she asked, “Where’s the woman you saw?”
“By the castle.” Earl jerked his thumb upward toward the playhouse.
“Why didn’t you call 911 instead of me?” Skye asked, then answered herself. “Because you don’t trust the police and figured they’d blame you.”
“A course they would.” Earl scowled. “They ’uns been tryin’ to pin somethin’ on me for years. ’Specially that sergeant. He’s a mean one.”
Skye barely kept from rolling her eyes. “Sergeant Quirk would never try to frame an innocent man.” She was sure of that, even if he did have some anger management issues. “And he’s not mean.”
“Not to you.” Earl crossed his wings. “But that ain’t true for the rest of us.”
“Really?” Skye made a mental note to relay that information to Wally. Quirk seemed to have been doing better with his temper, but maybe once he wasn’t being observed by his chief he didn’t try as hard. “Well, I’ll call and make sure Wally comes and not the sergeant.”
“Maybe you oughta take a look first.” Earl’s face turned a deep shade of red and he grabbed Skye’s hand, towing her outside the shed and toward the castle.
“Why?” Skye asked as he half dragged her toward the pink picket fence.
Instead of answering, he pushed open the gate with his hip and Skye took an involuntary step forward. Earl was right. Lying across the threshold of a custom-built playhouse was a dead woman with a knife sticking out of the side of her head. But what he had failed to mention was that the woman was Jerita Quinn.
Blinking, Skye backed away until she was on the other side of the little fence. In an effort to remain calm, she scanned the rest of the yard. A thick band of trees framed three sides and she knew that the neighbors wouldn’t have been able to see a thing back there.
Skye glanced at Earl, who was hopping from one turkey foot to the other as if he had to go to the bathroom, and said, “I’m calling Wally.”
Skye realized that she still held her cell and tapped the icon for her contact list, but before she could swipe Wally’s picture, Earl said, “Wait.”
“For what?” Skye asked.
“Couldn’t I just leave and you tell your hubby you found her?” Earl took a step away, but this time it was Skye’s turn to grab his wrist.
“No.” Skye’s nails dug into his skin as he struggled to free himself.
“Why not?” Earl squeaked. “I didn’t do it and I didn’t see nothin’ so I’m not a witness.”
“I’m sorry.” Skye’s voice softened. “Truly, I understand not wanting to be involved. But you might know something you don’t even realize.”
Something flickered behind Earl’s eyes and he said, “I is more confused than a chameleon in a bag of jelly beans.” With that, he wrenched himself free and ran toward the trees.
Well, shoot! Skye hesitated.
Should she try to catch him? It wasn’t as if she didn’t know where he lived. Before she could decide, two large men dressed in black jeans and long-sleeved black T-shirts and wearing headsets stepped out of the trees. Each held the runaway Doozier by an arm and Earl’s bright yellow feet dangled several inches off the ground.
So much for Carson’s promise that his security team would remain in their vehicle unless Skye hit the panic button. The two men must have circled around as soon as Skye left their field of vision.
Skye raised a censuring eyebrow at them and said, “I wasn’t in trouble.”
“No, ma’am.” Both men responded but didn’t elaborate even when she glared.
Giving up, Skye jerked her chin at Earl. “Put him in the shed while I call Wally.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Both guards nodded, carried Earl into the toolshed, and stood with their backs against the door and their arms crossed.
“Where are your coats?” Skye asked.
“No need for them, ma’am.”
“Fine.” A part of Skye wanted to scold the men for being overprotective, but another part of her was a little relieved. With her penchant for finding bodies, having backup probably wasn’t a bad thing.
Skye tapped the Send button on her phone and frowned when Wally’s cell went directly to voicemail, as did his private number at the station. Sighing, Skye dialed the nonemergency police number. As she listened to the phone ring, she checked her watch. Earl had called her less than an hour ago. Somehow it seemed longer.
When Thea answered, Skye identified herself and said, “I need to talk to Wally.”
“He’s in the mayor’s office,” Thea said, then demanded, “Is something wrong with the babies?”
“No,” Skye answered quickly before the daytime dispatcher could sound an alarm. “But we do have an issue, so please get him on the line.”
“What’s wrong?” Thea’s voiced oozed with suspicion. “Are you positive the babies are okay? You can tell me. I won’t call May.”
Skye repeated her assurances and her request to speak to Wally.
Finally, Thea told her to wait and put her on hold. Immediately Muzak blared in Skye’s ear. But before she could identify the song, Wally was on the line.
Sounding out of sorts, he asked, “Are you and the twins okay?”
Skye assured him she and the babies were fine, then said, “I’m with Earl Doozier at Jerita and Beilin Quinn’s house.” Skye rattled off the address.
“Our contractor?” Wally asked, sounding bemused. “Why are you there? And why is Earl Doozier with you?”
Skye filled him in on the phone call that she’d received from Earl, then said, “I had no idea the address he gave me was the Quinn residence.” She sighed. “Anyway, Earl was going door-to-door selling Turkeygrams—I’ll explain that later—and found Jerita Quinn dead in the backyard.”
“I take it you don’t believe it was natural causes,” Wally groaned.
“There’s a knife in the side of her head,” Skye said, then added, “So no.”
“Son of a bi…bison!” Wally bellowed. “Are you sure the killer’s not still around?”
“Earl searched the house and didn’t find anyone.” Interrupting Wally’s non-swearing version of cursing, she added, “I wasn’t here when he did it, the back door was unlocked, and you know darn well that Earl was armed and able to take care of himself.”
“I’ll be right there,” Wally said. “Get into your car, lock the doors, and wait.”
“Relax.” Skye chuckled. “Your father’s security team is here so I’m pretty darn sure not even Genghis Khan could get to me.”
“What—” Wally cut himself off and said, “Never mind. I’ll be there in five. You can tell me everything then. Call my cell if anything happens.”
Turning to the men guarding Earl, Skye said, “Chief Boyd says hi.”
They grunted, then leaned against the door, ignoring Earl’s complaints and threats. While she waited, Skye walked to the front yard and called Carson to tell him she’d be a little longer than she thought. He told her to take as much time as she needed. He, Eva, and CJ were having fun together. When he didn’t ask her any questions about the situation, she suspected his security guys had already reported in.
Seconds later, Wally’s cruiser, with lights flashing and sirens wailing, raced down the street. He pulled the squad car across the driveway, effectively blocking anyone from entering or leaving, and leaped from the vehicle.
Skye met him halfway and he enveloped her in a hug and rained kisses on her face. Finally, he held her away from him and examined her for injuries.
Once he was convinced she was okay, he said, “Where’s Earl?”
Taking him by the hand, she led him around the house, watched as he took in the two men guarding the toolshed, then said, “Earl may not be the most cooperative witness.”
“Like he ever is.” Wally gave her fingers one last squeeze, then released her and said, “Where’s the body?”
“Behind the pink picket fence.” Skye gestured to the castle.
Wally marched over to the playhouse, looked over the gate, and said, “I’ll check the house, then call the coroner and techs.”
“Shouldn’t you have backup?” Skye glanced at the security guards and explained, “I mean other officers.” When Wally raised an eyebrow, she shrugged. “I know I said Earl searched the premises, but what if…”
“How long have you been here?” Wally asked, but didn’t wait for her answer before adding, “Either the murderer was already long gone before either of you arrived, or, unless he or she is a moron, the killer escaped out the front while you guys were in the backyard.”
“Right.” Skye knew she wasn’t being logical. She knew that the murderer would have attacked Earl or her rather than wait for an armed police officer. But now that she and Wally had kids, some protective instinct had kicked into high gear and she worried about everyone even more than she had before becoming a mother.
Wally kissed her on the cheek and told her to wait with the security team. Returning a few minutes later, his expression was grim as he made his calls. Then he tucked his cell phone into his shirt pocket and rubbed the back of his neck.
Skye hurried up to him and asked, “Did you see anything inside?”
“Nothing seems disturbed.” Wally glanced in the direction of the body. “The county crime techs in Laurel will be here in about forty minutes and Reid is on his way. For once he was in town when we needed him instead of gallivanting somewhere in the city.”
“Uh-huh.” Skye murmured noncommittally, unwilling to comment.
Simon Reid, Skye’s ex-boyfriend, was the coroner, as well as the owner of the local funeral parlor and Bunny Lanes. His mother managed the bowling alley he’d named for her, but she was currently out of a job until the damage from a bomb was repaired.
Come Homicide or High Water Page 6