Murder of a Bookstore Babe

CHAPTER 19

Sense and Sensibility

When Loretta didn’t answer at any of her numbers, Skye decided that if she hadn’t heard from Vince by tomorrow, she could call Loretta’s law office and talk to her secretary. A live human versus a machine had to have some answers. And for now, that was the best plan she had.

Checking the time, Skye realized she had to get over to Hugo’s before he left for the day. She had finally come up with a reason to talk to him. Her father was turning sixty-five in January, so she would claim to be having a huge surprise party for Jed. She was checking with everyone to be sure they were available on the date.

She might even ask for Hugo’s help. Skye smiled. Everyone liked her dad, and Hugo owed him big-time for helping out when his regular mechanic came across a car he couldn’t fix. Hugo should be happy to talk to Skye about a celebration in her father’s honor.

Hugo’s used-car lot was only a couple of miles from Vince’s apartment, but Skye’s luck was running true to form, and his manager said her cousin had already left for the day. Great! Who expected a used-car salesman to keep banker’s hours?

As Skye pulled into her driveway, she checked her watch. It was only a few minutes past five thirty; for once she wouldn’t have to rush. She had time to fix a decent meal, freshen up, and still get to the bookstore in plenty of time to lead the teen discussion group.

Skye had just begun heating a skillet to brown a salmon filet when the phone rang. She turned the flame down and checked caller ID, congratulating herself on having finally gotten it installed. It had been worth the monthly cost ten times over these past few days, when she had been able to avoid her mother’s calls.

Seeing the number of Wally’s private line at the PD, Skye smiled and scooped up the receiver, then froze when May’s voice blasted from the earpiece. “Where have you been? Why haven’t you called me back? And what’s going on with your brother?”

Since Skye didn’t have acceptable answers for any of those questions, the conversation with her mother was long and painful.

Skye had long since lost her appetite and put the fish back in the refrigerator when she broke under her mother’s relentless grilling. “I didn’t call you, Mom, because I have nothing to tell you. I haven’t been able to reach Vince. He hasn’t answered his phones, and he’s not at the salon or his apartment.”

There was dead silence; then Hurricane May broke loose. Looking back later on her mother’s reaction, Skye realized she should have cut out her tongue as soon as she heard May’s voice on the phone rather than talk to her. Instead, she had ended up promising that she would let her mom know the minute she located Vince.

Because of May’s intense interrogation, Skye arrived at Tales and Treats less than fifteen minutes before the book club was scheduled to begin. Entering the store, she noted that all signs of the break-in were gone. The rare-book cabinet was back in position, its glass front replaced and the valuable tomes restored to its shelves.

Even the spot where Kayla had lain was undetectable. The polyurethane finish on the wood-laminate flooring had prevented the blood from soaking through and thus had been easily wiped clean. It somehow saddened Skye to think that the young girl’s death had left no mark.

Still, she couldn’t help but smile as she spotted Risé behind the counter. The store owner was busy checking out a huge stack of books for a woman who was chattering enthusiastically about how much she loved the selection of mysteries and romances.

Today, Risé wore a colorful T-shirt emblazoned with the words ONE GOOD BOOK DESERVES ANOTHER. Skye wondered how many different T-shirts with witty book sayings Risé owned.

Risé saw Skye and pointed to the literature alcove, mouthing, “They’re in there.”

Skye found Trixie and two girls arranging folding chairs into a semicircle. The desk, generally used to give the impression of a college professor’s office, was shoved against a wall, and a pitcher of lemonade, a stack of paper cups, and a tray of fancy cookies were spread across the top.

Trixie walked over to Skye and whispered, “Any news on the murder?”

“Not since I talked to you at school.” Skye drew Trixie farther out of earshot of the two preteens. “I still haven’t questioned Hugo, but everyone else we’re aware of who was angry at Risé has an alibi.”

Skye hadn’t meant to tell her friend about her suspicion that the store owner was the killer’s real target, but Trixie had independently come to the same conclusion, and Skye had had to admit she was looking into that possibility.

“Shoot!” Trixie stamped her foot. “On one hand I’m glad that none of them is guilty of such a horrible crime, but now what?”

“Exactly.” Skye made sure no one was listening, then said, “If Hugo is in the clear, which I certainly hope, then the case is pretty much at a dead end. Officer Martinez is doing a background check on Risé and Kayla, but she hasn’t found anything on either of them so far, and Wally said that no one involved in the case has any warrants in the system. All we can hope for is that the police get a lead from something the crime scene techs come up with.”

Trixie’s expression of frustration matched Skye’s, but a steady stream of girls had started to arrive, and they were forced to turn their attention to the matter at hand. Both women knew that a roomful of unsupervised teenagers was never a good thing.

While the attendees helped themselves to refreshments and settled into their seats, Skye said to Trixie, “I wonder why Risé put us in here. I hope she doesn’t expect our discussion to be literary.”

“Nah.” Trixie grinned. “She told me this area has the least amount of customer traffic, so we’ll be less likely to be interrupted.”

Although Skye had a minor in English, she was relieved that she wasn’t supposed to be conducting the club like a class. She didn’t think the kids would enjoy treating their book as if it were Tolstoy.

Skye recognized most of the girls and was surprised by the age range. Shawna Miles and Cassie Wren, the two who had been helping Trixie set up when Skye arrived, were only eleven or twelve, while some of the others were at least eighteen.

As soon as Skye sat down, Bitsy Kessler and Ashley Yates immediately claimed the two chairs on either side of her. Skye knew Bitsy from the high school newspaper, and she had rescued Ashley when the girl had tumbled into an abandoned basement, broken her leg in the fall, and been trapped there.

Last year Bitsy and Ashley had been enemies; this year they appeared to be friends. Maybe they were fren-emies. Skye had heard that term recently but wasn’t precisely sure what it meant.

The two younger girls flanked Trixie. They, too, might fall under the frenemy label, as they were rivals in the local dance troupe.

Other teens occupied the remaining seats, and once everyone was comfortable, Skye counted heads. Fifteen—not bad for the first meeting. If the girls enjoyed themselves tonight, they might bring their friends to the next session.

Trixie held up a copy of If I Have a Wicked Stepmother, Where’s My Prince? and asked, “So, what did you all think of this book?”

The kids were silent. Their expressions ranged from eagerness to apprehension. Trixie and Skye had come up with a few questions to use to initiate the discussion, and clearly they were needed to get the girls started, but Skye hoped that once they got going, they could ditch the formalities and just talk.

Skye leaned forward. “Maybe the first thing we should ask is, did you like the book?”

All the girls nodded, some saying they enjoyed the humor, others stating they thought the romance and excitement were the best things about the novel. A few commented that it was an easy read and they were hooked from the beginning.

“How about the protagonist? Could you identify with Lucy?” Skye asked.

Again, everyone nodded.

“Have you ever felt like Cinderella?” Trixie took up the leadership reins.

Shawna raised her hand. “I was Cinderella at our last dance recital.”

Everyone but Cassie tittered. She reached across Trixie and hit her friend’s arm. “We shared the role, Miss Smarty-Pants. Remember? Ms. Smothers said we were both equally good, and she couldn’t choose who was better.”

Trixie looked at Skye, silently asking: Should we go back to being more concrete?

Skye nodded, and Trixie said, “What did you think of the cover? If you were browsing the shelves, would it catch your eye?”

“Well.” Bitsy tossed her copper ringlets. “That sparkly star sure would have.”

“Yeah,” Ashley chimed in. “The color was nice, and the poufy dress with the Converses would have definitely made me look twice.”

“Because the formal and the shoes were incongruous with each other?” Skye asked.

“Nah.” One of the other girls grinned. “Because the look was so cool.”

Trixie waited for the giggles to stop, then said, “Reviewers have called this book a modern-day Cinderella story. Do you think they were correct? Did any of you see the similarity?”

A brunette whom Skye couldn’t place stared at the floorboards as she spoke. “Lucy’s stepmother made her live in a basement and sleep on an air mattress. And her twin stepsisters were mean to her and made fun of how she dressed. And she had to do all the work.”

“That’s a good point.” Skye smiled. “I’m sorry. I didn’t catch your name.”

“I’m Heidi.” The girl continued to gaze at the ground, shuffling her feet.

“Do you live in Scumble River?” Skye knew most of the teenagers in town. Maybe not their names, but their faces, and this girl didn’t look even slightly familiar.

“We moved here over the summer.” Heidi picked at a hangnail.

“So you started at a new school where you didn’t know anyone, just like Lucy?” Skye hoped this group would help the girl make some friends.

Heidi shrugged but remained silent.

After a second or two, Bitsy piped up, turning the discussion back to the book. “But Lucy doesn’t end up with Prince Charming.”

“Doesn’t she?” Skye saw Heidi sit back in relief, so she went with the thread Bitsy had started. “What makes a boy a Prince Charming? Which boy in this story is the true prince, Connor or Sam?”

The group was silent, and Skye was afraid she had lost the girls, but finally Ashley spoke. “I don’t think a real prince has to be the hottest guy. I think that sometimes the real prince is the guy who gets you. Who understands you and likes what you do. The one who doesn’t go along with the crowd.”

As the others murmured their agreement, Skye reflected that Ashley had certainly come a long way from the girl she’d first known—the spoiled, self-centered cheerleader who’d had sex with a bunch of jocks to ensure her popularity.

That line of thinking led Skye to another question. “Why do you think it took Lucy so long to see which guy was her true Prince Charming?”

“Because everyone wants to fit in.” Bitsy’s green eyes hardened. “Lucy went from zero to hero, and no one wants to take the reverse route. She thought if she broke up with Mr. Popular Jock and dated the art freak instead, she’d have to give up being considered cool and her new friends would turn their backs on her.”

The other girls all nodded, but Heidi said, “Maybe. Or maybe she stuck with Connor because no one else loved her, and no matter how much better Sam might seem, he wasn’t a sure thing.”

“What do you mean?” Trixie tilted her head. “Her father loved her.”

“Maybe, but her dad pretty much abandoned her for his new family. He dragged her all the way across the country, took her away from her old friends, then left her living in an unfurnished basement with people who didn’t like her. Connor and his friends were all she had.” Heidi wrinkled her brow. “I don’t think it was popularity she was afraid of losing. I think it was love.”

Wow! Skye was impressed. She’d have to see if Heidi was interested in joining the school newspaper staff. With that kind of critical thinking, she’d be an asset to the Scoop, and working on the paper would give her a chance to make some friends.

Now that the girls had warmed up, the discussion took off, and the next time Skye looked at her watch, two hours had gone by.

Skye had just signaled Trixie that they should finish up when a girl who hadn’t spoken the entire time said, “Didn’t any of you find it a little unbelievable that Lucy was accepted so fast? She went from being invisible to being part of the in crowd way too easily.”

Skye was about to answer when Ashley spoke. “But that’s how it is. One day you’re nobody. Then something happens, and the next day you’re in.” She shook her head. “The scariest thing is that it can go the other way, too. You can wake up one morning and be out.”

“Something to think about.” Trixie rose from her chair. “Unfortunately, the store is closing soon, so we have to wrap this up.”

The girls grumbled a little, but after a few minutes they gathered their belongings and left to go home.

Once they were gone, Skye said to Trixie, “Since you got everything ready, I’ll clean up.”

“I can help.”

“No. Go ahead.” Skye started throwing away the used paper cups and crumpled napkins. “I know Owen likes you home before he goes to bed.” Trixie’s husband was a farmer who was up before sunrise.

“You talked me into it.” Trixie hugged Skye. “Thanks. See you tomorrow.”

Skye was putting the literature alcove back in order when she saw Xenia through the archway. She called out to her, but Xenia only waved and continued on. Skye finished folding a chair and added it to the stack against the wall, then followed her.

This was her opportunity to talk to Xenia about Kayla. But where had she gone? Skye checked the mystery, romance, and science fiction rooms. Next she tried the register area. Risé was leaning across the counter talking to Xavier in a voice too low for Skye to hear.

Xavier’s brows were drawn together, and he was patting Risé’s hand, clearly comforting his old friend. Skye wondered whether they were talking about Kayla’s murder, Orlando’s fall from grace, or maybe just the strain of opening a new business in a strange town.

As Skye watched, she saw Xavier reach over and cup Risé’s cheek. Skye was glad Orlando and Risé had moved to Scumble River. It was good to see Xavier with friends in town.

Smiling, Skye resumed her search for Xenia. A quick glance in the café showed it to be empty except for Orlando washing dishes. Skye shrugged. Xenia must have been getting off work when she saw her and had already left the store.

Skye made a mental note to track her down the next day, then went back to the literature alcove. Once she finished tidying the space and made sure everything was back where it belonged, Skye picked up the empty pitcher and tray and walked into the central area. She looked around for Risé, but she wasn’t behind the counter.

Figuring that since the store had closed several minutes ago, Risé might be taking a break in the café, Skye headed in that direction.

When she approached the door, she stopped and put the tray under her arm in order to grab the handle. As she did so, she heard Orlando say, “If you don’t stop, he’s going to tell everyone.”

“But it’s not right.” Risé’s tone was stubborn.

“Right, schmite. Just lay off.”

“No.”

“Do you really want the entire town to know?”

Skye held her breath. What were Risé and Orlando hiding? As she leaned forward to hear better, the tray slipped from underneath her arm. It clattered to the floor, sounding like the cymbals in a marching band.

Immediately the voices fell silent.

A few seconds later Risé pushed open the door, looked at Skye, and said, “Oh, it’s you. I thought you were gone. Here, let me take those.” She grabbed the tray and pitcher in one hand and gripped Skye’s elbow with the other. Nearly pushing her toward the exit, Risé said in a rush, “Thanks so much for helping us out. I really appreciate it. You must be exhausted, so I won’t keep you. Bye.”

As soon as Skye was over the threshold, Risé locked the door, pulled down the shade, and turned the sign to CLOSED.

“You should have seen her. She couldn’t wait to get me out of there.” Skye lay on her stomach across Wally’s king-size mattress, her chin resting in both hands. “What do you think they don’t want people to know?”

“More important, who is going to tell it?” Wally was running on the treadmill next to the bed. The exercise machine was a recent gift from his father, who after a health scare was on a fitness kick. “And what does Risé have to quit doing in order to stop him?”

“I wonder if it’s Hugo.” Skye narrowed her eyes. “The first day I met Risé, Hugo was with me, and they had that argument about parking spaces that I told you about. As we were walking away, he said something about most people having to make a living from their business and that he’d done some digging, too.”

“Did you talk to Hugo today?” Wally wiped his face with the towel hanging around his neck.

“No. I didn’t realize he worked such short hours.” Skye played with a loose thread on the bedspread. “By the time I got to the used-car lot he was gone. But he’ll be my priority tomorrow.”

“Good.” Wally increased the speed on the treadmill. “Call me before you go inside, and I’ll have an officer nearby as backup in case there’s a problem.”

“Okay.” She looked at Wally, admiring his powerful, well-muscled body moving with such easy grace as he ran in place. “Any more on the security camera image or Risé’s or Kayla’s background?”

“The crime scene techs had to send the tape to the state, so who knows how long that will take.” Wally took a swig of water from the sports bottle in the treadmill’s cup holder. “Martinez is still digging, but the police from Risé’s old neighborhood said they’ve never heard of her.”

“How about her old job?” Skye asked. “Anything there?”

“There doesn’t seem to be any record of where Risé worked before opening up the bookstore.”

“Wouldn’t her income tax records tell you that?”

“Sure, but we’d need a warrant to see them,” he explained. “I told Martinez just to ask Risé for the info, but I think Risé intimidates her. I need to get on Martinez about that.”

“Or ask Risé yourself.”

“I will if I have to, but Martinez needs to learn.”

Skye nodded. This was the young officer’s first job after police training. “Anything on Kayla?”

“The students at her school seemed to have genuinely liked her. None of them mentioned anyone being jealous.”

“How about those blue plastic pieces the ME found in Kayla’s hair?” Skye sat up. “Do we know what they came from? I’m assuming they must have broken off of whatever hit her on the head.”

“That’s what I think, too, but the ME has no idea what it is.” Wally scowled. “I sure wish it was like TV, where they track a speck of dirt back to the exact location the criminal got it stuck on his shoe.”

“Me, too.” Skye was a big fan of those shows. “Oh, I keep forgetting to let you know Vince’s big news.” After telling Wally about the engagement and elopement plans, she added, “But now I can’t get in touch with him or Loretta, and I’m worried.”

“He’s probably just hiding out at Loretta’s and not answering his messages, in case your mom gets wind of what’s going on.”

“I hope so, but you’d think he’d want to talk to me.” Skye wrinkled her brow.

“Maybe.” Wally shrugged. “I wouldn’t worry too much about him. Haven’t you noticed? He always seems to land on his feet.”

“True.” She swung her legs over the side of the bed. “Well, I’d better get going.”

Wally turned off the treadmill, walked over, and stood in front of her. “Why don’t you stay?” He ran his fingertips along her inner thigh. “I could grab a quick shower, and then . . .”

“I really should go home.” Skye’s mouth went dry, and she swallowed. He was so darn sexy. “It is a school night.”

“So?” Slowly and seductively his gaze slid over her. “I’ll set the alarm for six.”

“But I don’t have anything to wear in the morning.” She fought an overwhelming desire to lie back and forget the practicalities. “All I have here are jeans, T-shirts, and tennis shoes.”

“Wrong.” Wally kissed her nose. “I bought you a present.” He drew her off the bed and over to his closet. Pointing, he asked, “What do you think?”

“Oh, my gosh,” Skye gasped. It was the emerald dress she had tried on during their last shopping trip to Von Maur’s, a high-end department store near Yorktown Mall. Although it had fit perfectly, she had decided it was too expensive and had reluctantly put it back on the rack. “When did you get this?”

“When you went to the bathroom,” Wally answered. “Surprised?”

“Yes. But I can’t exactly wear it with my Keds.”

“Look down.”

A pair of matching pumps was lined up on the floor.

“You are so sweet to me.” She wound her arms around his neck and kissed him. “How can I ever thank you?”

“I can think of a couple of ways.” Wally’s grin was devilish as he unbuttoned her blouse and kissed his way down her stomach. “Let’s start here.”