Come Homicide or High Water

by Denise Swanson

  There was a slight hesitation, then Beilin answered, “Fine. But I want to be present when you search and I don’t want Jenna there.”

  Wally raised an eyebrow at Skye, who shrugged. Beilin’s demands weren’t outrageous.

  “Sure,” Wally agreed. “But we need to do it sooner rather than later.”

  “How about the day after Thanksgiving?” Beilin offered. “Jenna and I are going to my folks for the holiday and I plan to leave her with them over the weekend so I can finish up a few things with your house.” He grinned at Skye. “If all goes as planned, you should be able to move in the first week of December.”

  “Awesome!” She smiled back at the contractor. He seemed like a nice guy and she really hoped he hadn’t killed his wife.

  “Friday morning works for me,” Wally agreed, then looked at Skye and asked, “Can you get a sitter?”

  “Dorothy is available.” Skye shook her head. “I was hoping to do some Black Friday shopping. You do realize we have literally no furniture for our new house?”

  “Well, if you can’t make it… But if we start at eight, we’ll probably be done by ten.” Wally patted Skye’s hand. “Plenty of time to shop, right?”

  “Of course.” Her eyes slitted. “How long can it take to furnish a thirty-five-hundred-square-foot home?”

  “Don’t forget the apartment over the garage,” Beilin added helpfully.

  “Of course not.” Skye glared at both men. “What’s another six hundred or so square feet?”

  Chapter 20

  Already Home

  Skye studied Homer through the partially closed blinds covering the break room window. He’d arrived a few minutes ago. Skye had volunteered to keep an eye on the high school principal until Wally was done talking with Dante. She wasn’t sure what the men were arguing about, but she hoped whatever it was wouldn’t take too long to settle.

  Turning her attention back to Homer, she narrowed her eyes. Unaware that he was being observed, the principal’s usual bluster was absent. Still wearing his topcoat, he sat slumped in a chair with his head in his hands. His typical overbearing presence was hidden beneath a layer of defeat and several days’ worth of facial stubble.

  A teeny tiny part of Skye was sorry for the man, but not enough to try to make him feel at ease. And as the minutes ticked by, Homer grew more and more agitated, fussing with the crease of his brown dress pants, tugging at the cuffs of his dress shirt, and shuffling the soles of his Hush Puppies against the floor.

  Skye was afraid that any second he would bolt from the police station, but luckily Wally arrived before the principal decided to make a break for freedom.

  “Ready?” Wally asked, and when Skye nodded, he held open the break room door for her to enter first.

  Homer glanced up as Skye walked into the room, then glanced behind her at Wally, and evidently frightened by their ominous expressions, he whined, “I didn’t want to do it.”

  “Which part?” Skye crossed her arms. “Setting up Earl or killing Jerita?”

  “What? No!” Homer yelped. “I didn’t kill that woman or anyone else. I meant involving Earl Doozier. I heard you brought him in here, and I figured he told you about that little call I made to him.”

  “Little call!” Skye barely stopped herself from lunging across the table. “You lured that poor guy to a murder scene to save—”

  “Let’s stop here and make everything nice and official,” Wally interrupted, gently tugging Skye down onto a chair and sitting next to her.

  He’d left the recorder on the table after Beilin’s interview and now he popped in a fresh tape and switched it on. Wally announced the date and time, told Homer he was being recorded, then asked him to state his name and address.

  After the preliminaries were complete, Wally said, “Why don’t you give us your side of what happened that day, Homer? I’m willing to keep an open mind.”

  Skye raised an eyebrow, but remained silent.

  “I didn’t kill her.” Homer gazed at Wally as if the chief were the last bullet in a gun and Homer was surrounded by zombies. “I merely went over to her house to persuade her to reconsider her lawsuit. Shamus ordered me to offer her whatever she wanted to make it all go away, which was exactly what I intended to do.”

  “And when Jerita refused, you murdered her.” Skye slapped the tabletop with her open hand. “Then you decided to kill two birds, or lawsuits, with one knife, and you phoned Earl to come be your patsy.”

  “Yes. I mean, no.” Homer slowly shook his humongous head. “I mean, you’re trying to mix me up. I admit that it crossed my mind that if I got Earl over to the Quinns and you all thought he was the killer, he wouldn’t have time to pursue a lawsuit against me or the school.” Homer’s cheeks hollowed as he sucked in a huge gulp of air. “But the woman was dead when I got there.”

  “That woman has a name,” Skye snapped. “It’s Jerita Quinn, not the ones you’ve been calling her since she got the best of you.”

  “Okay, sure.” Homer looked confused at Skye’s anger, then repeated his declaration of innocence. “Mrs. Quinn was dead when I got there.”

  “So you arrived at the Quinn house and…” Wally encouraged.

  “I’d called the day before to ask her to talk to me. She refused to come to the school for a meeting, but she said she’d speak with me at her house at eight thirty.” Homer dug a wrinkled white handkerchief from his pocket and used it to wipe the sweat from his forehead. “She told me I had twenty minutes to convince her because she had to be at work by nine.”

  “Were you on time?” Skye asked, knowing Homer’s propensity for tardiness.

  “On the dot.” Homer grimaced. “That woman—I mean, Mrs. Quinn—scared me.”

  “Then what?” Wally waved his hand for the principal to continue.

  “I rang the bell two or three times, but no one came to the door.” Homer toyed with a scrap of paper lying on the table. “Then I tried the knocker a few times and I might have shouted.”

  “That must have made you angry.” Skye raised a brow. “Her standing you up like that, especially with Dr. Wraige breathing down your neck.”

  “Yeah, of course it did. That woman was ruining my life!” Homer’s usual belligerence made a brief return appearance, then his shoulders slumped. “I tried phoning her, but she didn’t answer either her home number or her cell.” He frowned. “I had given up and was walking back to my car when I heard a sound from the backyard.”

  “What kind of sound?” Wally asked.

  Skye pursed her lips. Homer’s story seemed an awful lot like Earl’s account.

  “Maybe the squeak of a gate or some leaves rustling.” Homer shrugged. “Who knows? At that point, I wasn’t really trying to identify the noise. I just headed back there to see if it was Mrs. Quinn.”

  “So you’ve marched around the corner of the house and you saw…” Wally prodded.

  “Nothing at first.” The hairs sticking out of Homer’s ears waved like antennas when he shook his head. “Then I spotted the playhouse and I thought maybe Mrs. Quinn was cleaning it or something.”

  “Seriously?” Skye sneered. “That’s the best your imagination could do?”

  Wally chuckled, then said, “So, Homer, what was your next move?”

  “I walked over to the fence, looked toward the playhouse, and saw Mrs. Quinn lying there with the knife sticking out of her temple.” Homer’s ruddy cheeks paled. “I knew I’d be the police’s number one suspect since Skye would no doubt rat me out about the lawsuit.”

  “It’s my civic duty.” Skye smiled sweetly.

  “Don’t play dumb.” Homer glared at her.

  “I would never play dumb with you, Homer.” Skye clicked her tongue. “You’re too good at it for me to win.”

  Homer ignored her taunt and continued, “So, after thinking it over for a couple of minutes,
I realized that if the police had another suspect, it would keep the heat off of me. That’s when I called Earl. Once I heard him arrive at the front door, I made some noise to get him to come into the backyard, then I took off through the trees, circled around to my car, and left.” Homer looked back and forth between Skye and Wally, then asked, “You believe me, right?”

  Unfortunately, Skye did believe him. His story sounded exactly like what a self-centered rat like Homer would do in that situation.

  She was about to nod when Wally asked, “Then why did we find your pumpkin seed hulls inside the house?”

  “How do you know they’re mine?” Homer bluffed. “Do they have my name on them?”

  “No.” Wally leaned back in his chair. “But they do have your DNA.”

  “How…” Homer trailed off, then a light dawned in his eyes, and he pointed a finger at Skye. “You went through my trash. That’s why that paper from the lawsuit was missing, but the rest of the garbage was still there.”

  Skye kept her expression deadpan and didn’t respond to Homer’s accusation.

  “Speaking of that.” Wally’s smile was predatory. “What you wrote on that page makes a mighty good piece of evidence toward your motive.”

  “Look, the Quinns’ back door was open, so I went inside to see if the killer was still there.” Homer twitched his shoulders. “I must have spit out those hulls without realizing what I was doing. It’s become a habit and I don’t even notice anymore.”

  “There’s no way on God’s green earth you were looking for the murderer.” Skye stared at Homer until he swallowed audibly. “You were looking for Jerita’s phone to get the recording she made of you.”

  “And her cell phone just happens to be missing,” Wally said, leaning toward the older man. “If you turn it in now, I might be able to talk Mr. Quinn out of pressing charges for burglary.”

  “I didn’t…” Homer stammered, then glanced at Skye, who shook her head and gave him an I-don’t-believe-you stare. “Okay. I looked for it, but it was gone. There was just the case in her purse. I figured Mrs. Quinn had it in her pocket, but by then Earl was pounding on the door and I had to get out of there.”

  “Will we find your fingerprints match those we took from the scene?” Wally asked.

  “No. I wore gloves.” Homer spoke into his chest. “My hands get cold really easy so I always have a pair in my coat pocket.”

  “Then what did you do?” Skye raised a brow.

  “Like I said.” Homer ran his fingers along the scarred tabletop. “I made sure Earl would go around to the backyard and I took off.”

  Wally and Skye continued to question Homer, but they couldn’t shake his story. Finally, after he was fingerprinted and given a warning not to travel out of town, they allowed him to leave.

  As soon as Homer was gone, Skye and Wally headed over to Pru Cormorant’s house.

  On the way, she asked, “How do you want to handle this?”

  “Your guess is as good as mine.” Wally blew out a breath. “It’s not as if I’ve ever had to ask a suspect before if they kidnapped a woman in order to date that woman’s husband.”

  He turned into a neighborhood within walking distance of the high school. The homes were older, mostly from the fifties and sixties, and had spacious lawns. The area hadn’t been in any of the tornados’ paths so the trees and landscaping remained intact.

  Pru’s house was a well-maintained, beige-brick ranch with an attached two-car garage. The driveway looked as if it had been recently resealed, the yard was leaf free, and the sidewalks sparkled as if they’d just been power washed.

  All of which Skye could have predicted. What she hadn’t expected was the extensive Thanksgiving decorations. There was an elaborate wreath on the front door, a colorful turkey in the picture window, and a birdbath on the lawn holding a pretty arrangement of pumpkins.

  Wally parked the cruiser by the curb, and he and Skye walked up the sidewalk. Before they could ring the bell, the front door was flung open and Pru stood blocking their view of the house’s interior.

  “Hi!” Skye attempted to make this seem like a friendly visit. “Wow! Your decorations are gorgeous. Did you do them yourself?”

  “Of course.” Pru folded her arms. “That’s the only way to be certain they’re done correctly.”

  “I bet you could get almost all the materials from the dollar store in town,” Skye said, hoping that avenue of discussion would lead the way to what they really wanted to ask the woman.

  “Most of them.” Pru’s expression was smug. “I try to shop local.”

  “Me too,” Skye said. “It’s too bad we don’t have any clothing stores.”

  “They probably wouldn’t carry your size anyway.” Pru stared at Skye’s hips. “I remember when the Elegance Boutique was in Scumble River. They never had anything over a twelve.”

  “Maybe that’s why it closed.” Wally put his hand on Skye’s back and shot Pru a look that said I dare you.

  “Hmm.” Pru’s lips tightened and she demanded, “What are you two doing at my home anyway?”

  “May we come in and discuss it?” Skye asked, trying to edge her way over the threshold.

  “No.” Pru didn’t budge.

  “Fine.” Wally shrugged. “I suppose we can come back with a warrant.”

  Skye wondered if he was bluffing.

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Pru’s voice cracked.

  “We have you on the dollar store’s security recordings with Edie Baker the day she disappeared.” Wally raised an eyebrow. “It shows her getting into your car, and she hasn’t been seen since.”

  Now Skye knew he was bluffing because the recordings hadn’t caught the two women in the parking lot.

  “Her golf cart ran out of charge so I gave her a ride home.” Pru met Skye’s skeptical gaze, but then looked away.

  “Buzz.” Wally’s smile was smug. “A dollar store clerk drove it back to Bord du Lac with no problem.”

  “It must have had a short or a loose wire or…”

  “Let them in, sweetheart,” a feminine voice called out from inside the house, then Edie Baker joined Pru in the doorway. She slipped an arm around the English teacher’s waist and declared, “It’s time to tell the truth and shame the devil.”

  “And by devil, I assume you mean Gerald,” Skye guessed.

  “Pru said you were a smart one.” Edie smiled and gestured them inside.

  There were very few wrinkles on Edie’s beautiful face, and her baby-blue eyes sparkled as she looked between Skye and Wally.

  The interior of the house was as artfully decorated as the exterior, and when the four of them took seats at the kitchen table, Skye admired the centerpiece. It was a ceramic pumpkin sitting on two thin slices of a tree trunk and filled with colorful fall flowers.

  She pointed to the arrangement and said, “How lovely. You’re really talented.”

  Edie took Pru’s hand and said, “That’s how we first met. We were both buying things from the craft aisle at the dollar store and started talking. Then we kept running into each other at various VFW and American Legion events.”

  Skye glanced at Pru and the English teacher explained, “Cooking for one is a waste of time and the fundraising dinners are homemade food at a reasonable price for a good cause.” Pru’s warm smile transformed her normally unattractive countenance until she was almost pretty. “My father was a Korean War veteran and used to take me with him to the VFW and American Legion before he died.”

  “We saw each other at least twice a week for the past year or so.” Edie gazed fondly at Pru. “And we fell in love.”

  “But you were afraid to tell Gerald,” Skye deduced. “I expect a man with his view of the world would not gracefully grant you a divorce if you wanted to leave him for a man, let alone another woman.”

  Edie no
dded. “Our marriage had been over for years, but I had no good motive to get free from him before I met Pru.”

  “The irony of life is that by the time you’re old enough to know your way around, it’s difficult to go anywhere,” Pru said softly.

  “Mrs. Baker, you don’t seem, uh…” Wally trailed off and sent Skye a pleading look.

  “What my husband is trying to say is that you don’t appear to have dementia.” Skye shook her head at Wally, who was sometimes too much of a gentleman for his own good.

  “Probably not.” Edie giggled. “I’ve always been a bit scatterbrained, but when I decided that I couldn’t handle Gerald’s endless ranting about how everyone was wrong about everything, I might have faked it a little. Just enough to get him to stop talking to me.” She clapped her hands. “What Gerald never realized was that women are part angel. But once our wings are broken, the other part comes out and we use a broomstick to fly instead.” She winked. “We’re flexible like that.”

  “Good to know.” Wally glanced uneasily at Skye.

  She nodded her agreement with Edie’s statement, but remained silent.

  “I believe she has undiagnosed attention deficit disorder,” Pru stated. “I’d like to get her to my physician for an examination. Since Gerald thinks all doctors are charlatans, he’s never taken Edie to one. But because we hoped everyone would think she was dead, it would have been hard to explain her presence at the medical building if someone spotted her.”

  “That’s why you talked to me about Edie that day at school,” Skye guessed, then not waiting for Pru to confirm her deduction, she looked at Edie and asked, “Wasn’t it more difficult to pretend you had dementia once Gerald hired a caregiver for you?”

  “Nope.” Edie giggled again. “After Krissy caught me leaving on my neighbor’s golf cart, which, by the way, I had permission to use while she wintered in Florida, I told her the truth. And once Krissy knew the situation, she said that everyone deserved to be with the people they loved and not just who they were stuck with because they made one bad choice. In fact, she helped me plan my escape.”