Murder of a Sleeping Beauty

Finally, she decided she would keep everything, and tomorrow morning she would make photocopies, then turn it all over to Wally. Kent was going to pay for his sins.

Right now she had to give the man back his pants, pretend she didn’t know he was lower than a worm’s belly, and break up with him. An awkward situation at best.

“So, Kent, as I was saying, considering everything, it would be best if we didn’t see each other anymore.” Skye tried to get her soon-to-be-ex-boyfriend’s attention long enough to dump him.

He nodded, seemingly mesmerized by the TV screen.

“That means no more dating.” Her eyes strayed to the program that held him enthralled. Three men and a woman sat in a semicircle talking about e-trades, on-line this, and instant that. It sounded like Swahili to Skye.

Skye had emerged from the utility room with Kent’s pants to find him sitting in front of her TV, engrossed in some Channel 11 special about stocks, bonds, and the Internet.

Kent nodded again, and said, “Fine. Good. Just let me catch the end of this.”

She stepped in front of the set and snapped it off.

His head jerked as if she had slapped him and he leaped up from the chair. “What did you do that for?”

“Because I just broke up with you and I want you out of my house. Now.”

“What do you mean? You can’t break up with me. I do the breaking up.”

“Sorry, too late.” Skye grabbed his arm and pulled him to the foyer. She flung open the front door, pushed him outside, and threw his pants after him.

She dusted her hands together. “Good riddance, to bad rubbish.”

CHAPTER 20

Rages of Sin

It was a typical Monday morning. Skye had been late getting to the pool, late finishing her swim, and now she was going to be late for her first appointment. Damned panty hose. Skye had already tried to put on two pairs of nylons and managed to run both of them. She knew it was because she was in a hurry. Inanimate objects could sense her need for speed, and once that happened, they refused to cooperate. She had one more pair of hose, which she kept in her desk drawer for emergencies, but she’d have to get dressed before she could retrieve them.

She had rushed to school determined to use the copier before anyone else arrived. She’d made copies of the picture and letter from Kent’s wallet, secured them in the Bel Air’s trunk, and dropped the originals off at the police station—all before her morning swim. Now, if her panty hose would just cooperate.

She finished buttoning her lime silk blouse and was still zipping the navy skirt as she hurried into the hall. The teacher’s bell had rung, and staff scurried up and down the corridor as she unlocked the guidance office. A quick check to make sure that Coach was not anywhere in sight, and Skye slipped inside, closing the door behind her.

The panty hose was still in its original package, and she carefully opened the cellophane. Inching her hand down the leg to the toe, she bunched up the nylon as she went. Skye placed her foot inside and eased the material on up. One leg on, one to go.

A knock on her door startled her, but she kept calm and answered, “Just a minute please.”

She had started to repeat the process for the other leg when the door burst open. Homer took one look at her and stood with his mouth open. Skye froze with the nylon half up her calf, her skirt bunched around her waist, and her foot resting on the seat of the chair. Neither one of them seemed capable of speech.

Finally, Homer spoke, sounding as if he were strangling, “Skye, ah, Ms. Denison, ah heck.”

“Homer . . . ah . . . could you give me a minute?”

The man didn’t move.

Skye tried again, louder. “Homer, step out of the office for a minute.”

“Ah . . .” The principal complied as if he were coming out of suspended animation.

She finished donning her panty hose and straightened her clothing, then let Homer back into the office. “Sorry. I had a run. Should have used the ladies’ room.”

Homer’s face was still red, but he managed to say, “Never mind. We’ve got real trouble.”

“What now?”

“The police have arrested Kent Walker for Lorelei’s murder.”

“Oh.” She had figured they might when she gave Lorelei’s letter and Lorna’s picture to the dispatcher to give to the chief.

“It gets worse.” The hair in Homer’s ears quivered. “They found all kinds of smutty letters and pictures of him with her.”

“Oh, my.” Skye tried to act surprised.

“And to top things off, he’s asked to speak to you. You’re his one phone call. The police dispatcher is on hold.”

“Wonderful.”

As Homer slammed out of the office, Skye sat down at her desk and reached for the receiver. She punched the blinking light and said, “Skye Denison. May I help you?”

“Skye, honey, this is Thea from down at the police station. Your friend Kent is in a heap of trouble, and he’s asking for you. Can you come right away?”

“Can’t I just talk to him on the phone?”

“Well . . . you could, I guess, but Wally and the others have him in the interrogation room, and things are sounding pretty ugly.” The daytime dispatcher was a grandmotherly type who wanted everyone, even the police and criminals, to play nice.

“But if I’m his one phone call, they have to let him talk to me.”

“See, they haven’t arrested him, they’re just questioning him, so they don’t have to give him a phone call yet.” Thea hesitated before adding, “The thing is, he was yelling he wanted to call you, so I called you for him. The chief doesn’t know I did it. But your friend was already bleeding. Looked like he hit his head . . . or something.”

“I see. I’ll be right there.” The last thing she wanted to do was rescue the slimeball, but it wasn’t right for the police to beat him up. She wouldn’t actually help him, just go and check things out.

She stopped at the office on her way out and told Opal where she was going.

During the short ride to the police station, she wondered why she was doing this. Kent was no longer her boyfriend. And after reading that letter from Lorelei she knew he’d had an affair with her. So, why was she going? Was it because he was a teacher in her school, and she was afraid of the scandal? Charlie would certainly have a fit.

Or maybe deep down inside, although she knew Kent was a jerk, she didn’t believe he was a killer. Feelings were running high in town, and she was afraid that something would happen to Kent before he ever got to trial. Not that Wally would do anything to harm him, but she didn’t trust the other officers.

Thea greeted her with a wink as she entered the station. “Skye, what are you doing here?”

Skye went along with the charade and raised her voice. “A little bird told me you had someone here who might need my help.”

“You can’t go in there,” Thea said as she pushed the button to let Skye through the door.

Skye lowered her voice. “So what happened?”

Thea spoke just above a whisper. “Late last night, someone called Wally at home and said they knew who killed Lorelei Ingels. The woman said the murderer was Kent Walker, and that if they searched his apartment, they’d find proof that Kent and Lorelei were lovers.”

“Oh, my.”

“Wally finally got hold of the judge this morning and got a warrant. He’d already seen the picture and letter you dropped off at six. About seven-thirty the chief, Roy Quirk, and a couple of guys from county went to your friend’s apartment and searched it.” Thea’s eyes widened. “They found dirty pictures and love letters from Lorelei and her mother.”

“Can I see the stuff they confiscated?”

“You’re in luck. Your friend was making such a fuss when they brought him in, Wally just threw the folder on top of the cabinet.” Thea disappeared for a few minutes, then returned with a large manila envelope and handed it to Skye.

Skye emptied the envelope onto the counter and began to look through the material. The pictures were similar to the photo in his wallet—Mrs. Ingels in various stages of undress in motel-room settings. She didn’t read the letters. She was already too disgusted.

When the dispatcher finished with her call, Skye handed her the envelope. “Thanks. What a scumbag. I should just let him face the music.”

“Innocent until proven guilty. And he was bleeding,” Thea said softly as she left to replace the envelope.

When the older woman returned, Skye said, “Can I talk to Wally?”

“He doesn’t want to be disturbed.” She shrugged helplessly.

“What do you think would happen if I forced my way into the interrogation room?”

“They’d throw you out.”

Skye chewed on a fingernail. “At least I don’t hear any shouting coming from in there.” She inclined her head toward the closed door. “What did he say, exactly, when he asked for me?”

Thea closed her eyes and screwed up her face. “He said, ‘I want to make a phone call.’ And when they said no, he said, ‘Tell Skye Denison I need to talk to her.’ ”

“Is that all?” Why had he thought she’d help him? Skye made up her mind. Time to turn the problem over to someone who could be neutral. “Can I use the phone?”

Thea shoved the instrument toward her. “Dial nine first.”

Skye rummaged through her tote bag until she found her address book. She flipped to the S section, ran her finger down the page, then punched in the number. “Loretta Steiner, please. Skye Denison calling.”

A few seconds later a throaty voice reverberated from the receiver. “Denison, what’s up? I just heard of a great new restaurant.”

Loretta was a sorority sister of Skye’s, and one of the best criminal lawyers in Chicago. She had defended Vince a year and a half ago, when Skye’s brother was accused of murder. Since then the two women had gotten together for lunch every time Skye went into the city.

“Unfortunately, this isn’t a social call. I need to hire you again.”

“Who’s dead this time?”

After Skye explained, Loretta said, “Okay, if the roads are clear I’ll see you in ninety minutes, and if they aren’t, who knows?” Illinois had only two seasons—winter and construction. Winter was officially over. The first orange traffic cone had been spotted.

Before Skye could hang up, Loretta asked, “Do you think he killed her?”

“No, but I don’t have a good reason for thinking that, except I don’t want to have an ex-boyfriend who’s a killer. It’s bad enough that he slept with a married woman and her daughter while we were dating.”

“Did you take precautions?” Loretta demanded.

“No.”

Loretta drew in a sharp breath.

“Because I didn’t sleep with him,” Skye finished.

“Oh . . . ah . . . that’s good. Great.” Loretta fumbled for a comment. “See you soon.”

A tiny smile played on Skye’s lips as she hung up the phone. She had never heard her friend at such a loss for words.

Then she frowned. Wait a minute. Am I the only thirty-something woman who’s not sleeping with every man she dates?

Skye sat on the vinyl couch in the police-station entry-way as she waited for Loretta. She had written Kent a note, telling him a lawyer was on her way, but she doubted Wally had given it to him.

She shifted in her seat and grabbed her tote bag, hoping that she had put her current mystery into it before leaving that morning. Her questing hand didn’t feel the hard edge of a book, but did come across the sheaf of papers she had taken from her mailbox on both Thursday and Friday. She had sorted out the phone messages at school and returned most of the calls, but she hadn’t looked at the rest of the documents.

Her eyes automatically scanned the memos before tossing them into the wastebasket. Most had nothing to do with her, but one stopped her automatic crumple reflex. It was from Homer, calling a meeting to discuss their school’s low grade on the state report card. Their achievement scores did not stack up well against those of other, wealthier school districts. The last paragraph read:

We’re going to keep having these meetings until I find out why no work is getting done around here.

Skye smoothed the wrinkled sheet and put it back in her purse. It would go in her scrapbook of silly administrator memos.

The last thing in her pile was an envelope that had already been ripped open. She turned it over to see if she could figure out why the seal had been broken, and froze. She stared at the piece of mail in her hand. It was addressed to Mr. Simon Reid, Coroner. The top left corner bore the name of the forensics lab. It was the missing toxicology report. How had it gotten into her mailbox at school? More importantly, what should she do with it?

She glanced around. She was alone in the waiting area, but anyone could come through one of several doors at any moment. What to do? Hand it over to Wally, was the obvious answer, but someone had gone to a lot of trouble to get this to her. And Wally already had a copy, so she wasn’t withholding vital information.

Okay, she’d take a quick peek and then give it to the chief. But she needed to preserve any fingerprints. Skye reached into her purse and retrieved her cosmetic case. Inside were tweezers, which she used to pull the report from the envelope.

A quick scan told her nothing. Most of the narrative did not use words Skye understood. The summary was a little easier to grasp. Lorelei had been given a fatal dose of dextroamphetamine. That sounded familiar. Skye made a note of the drug and the amounts found in the young woman’s blood.

She was using the tweezers to return the report to its envelope when she saw a Post-it stuck on the back. Scrawled on the yellow square was:

Thought you should see this. Watson.

Skye was hoping Watson wasn’t who she thought he was when Loretta arrived. Six feet tall and well muscled, with smooth mahogany skin and black hair that she wore in a coronet of braids, Loretta turned heads whenever she entered a room.

The two women hugged.

“Same police chief?” Loretta asked.

“Same everything.”

“Okay, here’s the plan. I’ll demand to see my client. If your friend is swift enough, he’ll confirm I’m his lawyer and everything will be fine.”

“And if he’s not too quick on the uptake?”

“We’ll play it by ear.” Loretta turned and rang the visitor’s bell.

Thea answered, listened to Loretta, and went to get the chief.

He appeared a few minutes later, scowling. “Ms. Steiner, what brings you to our neck of the woods?” He glanced over her shoulder at Skye. “As if I couldn’t guess.”

“Chief Boyd, nice to see you again. I’m here on behalf of Kent Walker. I understand you’ve been questioning my client without benefit of attorney.”

“He’s not under arrest.”

“So he’s free to go?”

“We’ve asked him to cooperate in our investigation.”

“I understand that cooperation was coerced with a blow to the head.”

Wally’s face reddened. “He hit his head getting into the police car.”

“Right.” Loretta narrowed her eyes. “I’d like to see my client now.”

After Loretta was ushered into the interrogation room to confer with Kent, who had readily agreed that she was his attorney, Skye returned to school.

Her first act was to put the tox report into a Ziploc bag and stash it in her trunk with the photocopy of Lorelei’s letter. Skye had a bad feeling that Watson was none other than Justin Boward, and that the girl who’d been seen right after the original report was stolen was Frannie Ryan. She wondered when those two had joined forces.

Skye was trying to figure out how much of what she knew was confidential when Opal knocked on her door. Homer wanted to see her.

Skye had barely settled into a chair in the principal’s office when he demanded, “What in the hell is going on? Did Kent murder Lorelei?”

“The police got a tip and searched Kent’s house. They found dirty pictures of, and letters from, both Lorna and Lorelei. It appears he was sleeping with both mother and daughter. It looked to me like they were going to charge him with Lorelei’s murder, so I got him an attorney.”

“He understands the school isn’t paying lawyer fees, right?”

“Why would he think they would?” Skye countered.

A shifty look settled on the principal’s features. “I’m not sure, but we may’ve promised him that when we hired him.”

Light was dawning. “You mean, you gave Kent an under-the-table deal—outside the teachers’ contract?”

Homer half nodded, then seemed to catch himself. “I can’t talk about that.”

“You know, I always wondered how someone like Kent Walker, who hated being in Scumble River—let alone in the Midwest—ended up in our school. Any ideas?”

“What do you mean by that?” The hair in Homer’s ears bristled. “I’ll have you know we pass over a lot of good people to get to the ones we hire.”

Skye bit her lip to keep from laughing. The sad thing was that Homer was probably right. “Okay, but it’s still odd that someone who thinks he’s so much better than the rest of us ended up teaching in Scumble River.” After the words left her mouth she realized the description sounded strangely like her own situation. She reddened slightly and blocked that thought.

The principal leaned back in his chair. “It’s a long story.”

“My day’s already shot. Go ahead.”

“Kent’s father owns most of the car dealerships in Massachusetts. Mayor Clapp met him at some convention or other that one of the auto manufacturers put on. They had some business thing going so they kept in touch.”

Skye could imagine the type of deal Mayor Clapp would be involved in. “So . . .”

“So, this summer the mayor gets a call from Mr. Walker asking if he could find a job around here for Kent. Seems that he’d been living on the family money and got into some trouble, and the father wanted to teach him a lesson.”

“I’ll bet I can guess what kind of trouble he got into,” Skye interjected, thinking of the pictures she had seen.

“Anyway, Mayor Clapp asked about his qualifications. He had a degree in English and we had a maternity leave to fill.”

“That clears up that mystery.” It was beginning to seem to Skye that the Scumble River school district attracted more than its share of misfits from the education world, herself included.

“It’s not good.” Loretta Steiner glanced up from the menu. “There’s a lot against him, and not much for him.”

Skye gazed around the Feedbag before responding. It was nearly five, and the restaurant was filling rapidly. “What do they have on him?”

Loretta closed the giant laminated folder and put it aside. She used her fingers to tally Kent’s guilt. “They have several witnesses who will testify that Lorelei and Kent had an intimate relationship. Almost her entire cheerleading squad saw them alone together in compromising situations outside of school at one time or another.”

Skye took a sip of ice water. “I knew Lorelei hadn’t been discreet, but you’d think Kent would know better.”

“Sounds like she may have set him up—wanted the other girls to see them kissing and such.” Loretta signaled to the waitress, then continued after they ordered. “He lucked out in one respect. Everyone agrees Lorelei was past the age of consent.”

“Maybe legally, but morally to have an affair with your student is plain sleazy.”

Loretta shrugged. “It’s pretty mild compared to the cases I often see.”

“Thank God I never let him photograph me. Of course, come to think of it, he never asked.” Skye took another gulp of water. “I think I’ve been insulted.”

“You were obviously his cover, so no one would realize what he was really up to.” Loretta grinned. “Besides, he’s terrified of Uncle Charlie. He was afraid to try anything with you.”

“I can’t decide whether to be relieved or offended.”

“The most damning bit of evidence is that they found a bottle of prescription diet pills in Kent’s medicine cabinet.”

Skye looked blank.

“They were prescribed to Lorelei,” Loretta explained. “And they were the drug that killed her.”

“Shit!” That was how Skye had heard of dextroamphetamine—a doctor had probably tried to prescribe them for her at some point in her life. “What did he have to say about all this?”

“Kent had an explanation for it all. Said that Lorelei had decided to stop taking the weight-loss pills and given him the bottle to keep so she wouldn’t be tempted.” Loretta shook her head. “He’s using the old ‘she came on to me’ defense to explain why he was sleeping with his student.”

“Well, not that I’m blind to the evidence against Kent, but I do think Priscilla VanHorn is an equally good suspect,” Skye said.

“Who’s she?”

“Her daughter was runner up to Lorelei in everything—school, cheerleading, and even at these beauty pageants they all seem to be participating in—so she had motive.” Skye explained about the incident with Charlie at the last contest. “She certainly had the opportunity. Zoë and Lorelei were always together, so all she had to do was hand her a bottle of doctored juice. And means would be no problem. I wouldn’t be surprised to learn that Priscilla and her daughter are both taking the same diet pills that Lorelei was.”

“I’ll keep that in mind if I have to try this case.”

“That reminds me—the juice bottle they found next to Lorelei’s body, did it have Kent’s fingerprints on it?”

“No.” Loretta frowned. “From what I gathered, that bottle had a variety of prints, but they were so smudged they were useless. But his prints were on the band-room doorknob leading into the backstage area.”

“He could have used that entrance as a shortcut while he was directing.”

“That’s what he’s claiming.”

“So, how did you leave things with Kent?”

A tiny smile played on Loretta’s lips. “He wanted to know if he should tell the truth to the police.”

“What did you say?” Skye was curious as to what a top criminal attorney’s advice would be.

“I told him that honesty is the best policy, but insanity is a better defense.”

CHAPTER 21

Lock, Stock, and Farewell

Skye’s Tuesday morning at the elementary school had run long so it was close to one-thirty when she pulled into the high-school lot. Two cars blocked the bus zone, illegally parked in front of the entrance. Both were big, black, and expensive.

As she climbed the steps, a police cruiser swooped in and skidded to a stop next to the other vehicles. Wally threw open his door, ignored Skye, and ran into the building. She followed close on his heels. He headed down the hallway and into the maze of locker banks.

They’re going to search Lorelei’s locker. Skye stood quietly just out of sight, tucked behind a row of lockers, and hoped that no one would notice her.

Mr. and Mrs. Ingels, a man in a business suit, and Homer stood huddled together. Wally stopped in front of the group, and asked Homer, “Have they opened it yet?”

He shook his head. “No, we’re waiting for our lawyer.”

The man in the suit spoke up. “Mr. and Mrs. Ingels have every right to clear out their daughter’s locker.”

Wally turned to Mr. Suit. “And you are . . . ?”

“Mr. Wingate, the Ingels’s attorney.” The man straightened his tie. “We heard you have a suspect in custody.”

“That’s correct.” Wally oozed charm and turned to Lorna Ingels. “So you can see, ma’am, why we need to examine what Lorelei had in her locker. It could provide us with more evidence against our suspect.”

Skye was surprised by how bad Lorna looked. She had deteriorated further in the few days since the funeral. Although she wore a designer suit, the hem hung crookedly, and there was a stain on the jacket. The skin on her face sagged, and her champagne-blond hair hung limp. Within less than two weeks, her daughter’s death had aged her ten years.

The woman looked helplessly at her attorney.

At that moment, the school’s lawyer arrived. Skye had met Bob Ginardi last year when her grandmother died. He had been involved in some financial impropriety with her uncle, but managed to wiggle out without any charges being filed against him. She couldn’t wait to hear his take on the present situation.

Ginardi, Homer, and the chief huddled for a moment, then Wally announced, “Okay, this is how we’re going to do this. The Ingelses’ attorney will take each item out of Lorelei’s locker, show it to us, and hand it to the Ingels. Our lawyer will write the official inventory, and we’ll all sign it. Objections?”

Mr. Ingels stepped forward. “Hell, yes, I object. This should be a private family moment. You’ve got your man. Can’t you see how upset my wife is?”

The contrast between Allen Ingels’s appearance and his wife’s was startling. He was freshly shaved and barbered, and wore an immaculate tan suit. Even his oxblood loafers glowed with care.

Wally’s voice was detached. “We’re very sorry for the intrusion, but a suspect is not a conviction, and we need to stay on top of the situation.”

Wingate whispered in Allen’s ear, then turned to the group. “We agree.”

Skye stepped farther back, to make sure she remained unnoticed, and quietly slid a piece of paper and pen out of her purse. She had wanted to search the locker herself and had never gotten the opportunity, but this was probably better. She could see what they found, but wouldn’t have to worry about how to tell Wally if she found something important while conducting an unauthorized search.

Several minutes went by as books, papers, pens, pencils, makeup, and a sweater were taken out and examined. The last item was a small prescription bottle. Skye couldn’t see the label from where she was hidden, but Wally read the name out loud. It was the same diet pills that had been found at Kent’s, and the same drug that the tox screen listed as the cause of death. How many bottles of that stuff were floating around?

Back in the guidance office, after persuading Coach it was her turn to use the space, Skye consulted her appointment book. She was supposed to see several students that day, and she made sure to schedule Justin Boward and Frannie Ryan for the last period, although what she was going to do about them and the tox-screen report was a conundrum.

The afternoon dragged on and on. Finally, the eighth-hour bell sounded, and Justin appeared at her door; Frannie arrived soon afterward.

Once both teens were settled, Skye said to Justin, “Dr. Watson, I presume?”

The boy didn’t respond, but Frannie’s face paled.

Skye tried again. “Justin, I appreciate the help, but you must never do anything like that again.”

He stared at her without speaking. They were obviously back to the silent treatment.

She turned to the girl. “Frannie, why did you steal the report for Justin?”

The teen’s face flashed from white to red. “It wasn’t for him. I just wanted the whole thing to be over with, and he said you’d solve the murder long before the police ever would.”

“Thank you, Justin. That’s very flattering. But I don’t want either of you to get into trouble by trying to help me.”

Neither teen responded.

“Any ideas what we should do about this situation?” Skye looked from face to face.

Justin shrugged. “What situation? You’re in the clear, and the cops have Mr. Walker. Why should we do anything?”

“For one thing, I don’t think Mr. Walker is guilty. And when they find that out, they’ll start looking again.”

Frannie sagged in the chair. “Even dead, she’s the center of attention.”

“Worse than that, Frannie,” Skye said gently. “They have a witness who saw you after you took the report from Simon’s mail.”

Her sag became a slump. “What should I do?”

“Tell your dad and Mr. Reid what you did.”

“That’s bogus,” Justin protested, standing. “She’ll get into trouble, and it’s my fault. I asked her to do it.”

“Then I guess you’d better go with her,” Skye said.

The teens grumbled, but made sounds of agreement as they stood and headed for the door.

“Justin, one more thing. The day Lorelei was murdered, when you went backstage looking for a bathroom, were you talking to Mr. Walker before I got there?” Ever since Loretta had told her Kent’s fingerprints were on the band-room doorknob, Skye’d been wondering if it was his voice she’d heard talking to Justin that day.

The teen looked at the floor. “Yeah. He came in through that little door and took some stuff from his desk. He told me not to tell. Said it was just personal junk.”

Skye nodded. Another part of the puzzle revealed. “Okay, you can go now. You are going to talk to Mr. Reid, correct?”

Frannie and Justin both nodded.

After making sure the pair was out of earshot, she picked up the phone, dialed, and said, “Simon, you’re about to have company.” After she had explained, and extracted a promise that he’d be firm but not mean to the kids, she hung up.

The bell rang, and moments later Trixie stuck her head into the room. “Is the coast clear?”

“Sure. Come on in. What’s up?”

Trixie pulled up a chair and sat down. “Just wondering what’s going on with the Sleeping Beauty case. First the star and now the director—do you think they’ll go on with the show?”

Skye shrugged. “You heard about Kent?”

“Which version?” The brown curls on Trixie’s head bounced in time with her tapping toe.

Skye summed up what had happened, then asked, “Have the cheerleaders said anything about him?”

“He’s the main topic of conversation.”

“What do they think?”

“Well, they all knew Lorelei was sleeping with him, but they were sworn to secrecy.” Trixie grinned. “I find it hard to believe they actually kept quiet about the affair.”

“Interesting. What else did they know?”

“Certainly not about Kent and Mrs. Ingels. They think that’s just plain gross. Moms are not supposed to be having sex, especially with their daughter’s teacher.” Trixie made an oops face. “Oh, gee, I’m sorry. I forgot you dated him. You okay?”

“Fine. I really don’t care, which surprises me.” Skye studied her nails, but glanced sideways at Trixie as she said, “Maybe it’s because I never slept with him.”

Trixie nodded. “Or because you were just dating him to get back at the guy you really love.”

Skye was stunned by the suggestion. “And who would that be?”

“That’s the problem, isn’t it?” Trixie met her gaze head-on. “Even you don’t really know.”

Skye slumped in her chair. Trixie was right. She wondered if she’d ever be able to let herself love someone again. Probably not until she faced her ex-fiancé. Since he had cleaned out their shared apartment and refused to see her, she had never really gotten to finish things with him.

Straightening up, Skye changed the subject again. “Hey, I remember something else I wanted to ask you.”

“What?” Trixie started to gather her belongings.

“When I walked through the girls’ locker room on my way to the pool the other day, I noticed a picture of Caresse Wren on her locker. I knew it was her locker, since they have the names on masking tape right on them. Why would she have her own picture on the outside of her locker?”

Trixie, standing in the threshold, giggled. “I asked that, too. She said she put the picture up so when she forgot her name, she could still find her uniform.”

“Was she serious?”

“I was afraid to ask,” Trixie said over her shoulder on her way out.

Skye slumped in her desk and tried to figure out what was bothering her. She picked up a pen and paper and started to jot down words and phrases as they came to mind. Time ticked by, and the school grew quiet.

Finally, she looked at the legal pad in front of her. She had been writing the word “locker” over and over. Why? The contents of Lorelei’s locker had been unsurprising. Even the diet pills meant little since they were the teen’s own prescription.

What message wasn’t she getting? It was odd that Lorelei didn’t have any pictures hung on the inside of her locker. Skye grinned, thinking of Trixie’s story about Caresse Wren with the picture on the outside.

That was it! Cheerleaders had a second locker: one in the gym. Had anyone thought to look at Lorelei’s cheerleader locker?

Skye sprang from her chair and rushed out the door. The halls were empty. Her heels clicked eerily on the faded linoleum, and a dank smell assaulted her nostrils, making her feel as if she were about to sneeze. Where had everyone disappeared to?

She looked at her watch. It was past six. Both staff and students were long gone. She pushed through the double doors and into the darkened gym. The humid odor was stronger in there, and the silence more pronounced. Goose bumps rose on her arms, and she shivered.

Without warning, her mind turned to all the scary movies and murder mysteries she had read. She jerked her hand back from the door to the girls’ locker room. What if the killer were waiting on the other side? There wouldn’t be anyone to hear her scream.

This was silly. No one could know she’d choose this day and time to come here. She had to stop reading suspense thrillers.

She took a deep breath and pushed. The door swung open without a sound. Complete darkness greeted her. She fumbled for a light switch and finally found it, flooding the room with glaring illumination. Lockers lined the walls and stood in rows that formed dark aisles. Benches were bolted to the floor, and a huge tiled shower took up a corner of the room.

The place smelled of chlorine from the adjacent pool, sweat, and stale perfume. Skye’s footsteps echoed as she made her way to the section that held the cheerleaders’ lockers. A dozen shiny aqua rectangles were set apart from the gray of the other lockers. Each held a piece of tape on which was written the girl’s name, and a padlock.

Skye stared at the padlock. Shit! How would she get that opened? Wait. She moved closer. There was a slight gap. Lorelei’s lock wasn’t fastened. She swung the door open and peered inside but couldn’t see anything. She reached in and felt nothing. The locker was empty. That was why the padlock was open. Someone, probably Lorelei’s parents, had beaten her to the punch and already cleared it out.

She sank onto the wooden bench, out of ideas. After a moment her gaze was drawn back to the bank of lockers—two metal cubes across and six down. Lorelei’s locker was in the top row, nearest the wall.

Skye squinted. The lockers were perfect squares, but the wall wasn’t straight. A vee formed between the wall and lockers. She got up and ran her hand up the gap where lockers and wall joined together. It was a tight fit down near the floor, but widened bit by bit as her fingers moved toward the top. There she could fit her hand into the fissure all the way up to her wrist. The opening was deeper than she expected. Skye stretched her fingers as far as she could, but felt nothing. She needed a long, thin probe.

She looked around, then hurried into the gym teacher’s office and returned with a hanger. After carefully unbending the wire, leaving the neck curved in semicircle, she inserted it into the cleft. After a few seconds, she felt the probe bump up against something. With a little maneuvering she was able to encircle the object with the hook and pull out her prize.

It looked like a book of poetry—slim with a flowered cover. Skye’s shoulders slumped in disappointment. All that work for nothing. Idly she flipped it open. Instead of the poems she expected, handwriting greeted her. It was Lorelei’s diary.

Skye wasn’t surprised to see the volume. In the back of her mind, she had always suspected that one might exist. Ever since she had been at the school district, the kids had been taught to keep journals, starting in kindergarten. Many adolescent girls continued the practice in private.

She was torn. What should she do with her find? It seemed such an invasion of privacy to read what the dead girl had never intended anyone else to see. On the other hand, if it led to her killer, was there any other choice? Giving the diary to Wally seemed worse somehow. She wasn’t sure that he would understand a young woman’s innermost thoughts.

No matter what she decided, she had a sudden urge to get out of the building. After tucking the book in her pocket, she put everything back the way she had found it and turned off the light. She hurried out of the gym, grabbed her tote bag from the guidance office, and headed for her car.

The five-minute ride home was excruciating. Skye could feel the diary almost pulsing in her pocket. Bingo was waiting for her as she skyrocketed through the front door of her cottage. He insisted on being fed before she did anything else.

Finally, she could sink onto her sofa and open the book.

CHAPTER 22

Shroud and Clear

Asigh escaped Skye’s lips as she closed Lorelei’s diary. Talk about looks being deceptive. On the surface, this was a girl who had everything—beauty, brains, popularity, and a prominent family name. Yet in the teen’s perception, none of it was enough. Skye clearly remembered the pain of her own adolescence and felt the agony behind each of Lorelei’s paragraphs.

January 1: I told Mother today that I was quitting everything—the pageants, cheerleading, and especially the pills. I’m tired of the competition, tired of being judged by how I look, and tired of my so-called friends who would stab me in the back for a crown or a trophy. My life is nothing but one big lie.

January 2: Mother is still furious. After she kept me up all night screaming and crying, I finally caved and agreed to finish out the cheerleading season, perform in the play, and do one last pageant—Miss Central Illinois. But I won about the pills. As of today no more diet pills.

January 16: Mrs. VanHorn has been so nice. I’m a little surprised. I never thought she liked me that much, but she’s really supported my decisions to quit competing. She says she wishes she could stop Zoë from feeling she has to be the best at everything. I love stopping by after school. Mrs. V is an excellent baker. Her chocolate chip cookies are to die for.

January 29: Zoë can’t seem to make up her mind. One day she’s cheering me on about my decision to quit all the activities and the next she’s saying that we won’t be popular if I don’t do what I’ve always done. Plus Zoë is really grossed out that I’ve gained weight and went up a dress size. She’s always after me to go back on the diet pills.

March 10: Okay, how much weight am I going to gain? None of my clothes fit, and Mother claims we don’t have the money for a new wardrobe. She actually suggested I try throwing up if I wouldn’t go back on the pills. Today they took the measurements for the Sleeping Beauty costumes and it was humiliating. I could hear the snickers when they yelled out my hip size. Thirty-seven inches, my gawd, I’m almost as big as Fat Frannie.

March 16: I can’t stand it anymore. Mother has started to leave boxes of laxatives in my room. She monitors every morsel I put in my mouth. I hated to do it, but today I started taking the diet pills again. I had to. Even Kenny has stopped saying I’m beautiful. I thought because he was older, he’d be less obsessed by my being thin, but he barely wants to have sex with me anymore. I think breaking up with Troy was a mistake.

March 30: The pills aren’t working as well as they used to, so I’ve doubled the dosage. Missed my period this month. An advantage of taking the diet pills I’d forgotten. I guess I was stupid to try and stop.

There was nothing about being pregnant, and Skye was convinced that the teen was unaware that she was going to have a baby. And if Lorelei didn’t suspect, the father surely couldn’t know, which eliminated motives for both Kent and Troy.

April 13: The pills don’t seem to be working anymore. I’m still gaining weight. I measured myself this morning. I’m now officially fat. I’m a size eight. I’ve decided to take three pills at a time.

Skye took a deep breath. That was the last entry, the day before she died. Lorelei must have felt as if she were the bone, and everyone she knew was a dog trying to take a bite. Maybe she had killed herself after all.

No, Skye was almost certain that wasn’t the case. The circumstances just didn’t fit what she knew of teen suicide—no note, no giving away of personal items, and why would she crush the pills into her juice rather than swallow them whole?

The more she thought about it, the more she believed that the killer was Priscilla VanHorn, who had wanted to eliminate Lorelei from competing with Zoë—especially if the woman had found out Lorelei was taking the diet drugs again. It was clear from the diary that Lorelei was used to accepting food and drink from Priscilla. With Troy and Kent out of the running, Zoë’s mother had the strongest motive. She certainly had the opportunity—she had been at the school that morning, and very likely saw Lorelei in the hall. That left only means. The pills would be easy enough to get, but did she have access to that type of juice? Surely, she would have used whatever was handy.

The phone had rung several times while Skye had been reading, and she had let the machine take the calls. Now she dragged herself into the kitchen, poured a can of Diet Coke over ice, and punched the play button.

May’s voice ricochetted off the walls. “Where are you? It’s after nine on a school night. Are you okay?”

Charlie was next. “I heard they arrested Kent Walker. Call me right away.”

The last call was from Simon. “Hi, thanks for the heads-up about Frannie and Justin. Xavier and I gave them a good scare, as you suggested, but we told them they could work off their ‘fine’ this summer around the funeral home. Sorry you were blamed for their crime. I’m looking forward to our youth committee meeting Friday.”

His warm tone soothed Skye’s frazzled nerves. She reached for the phone, but noticed it was after eleven. Too late to return his call.

Instead, Skye got ready for bed. She stretched out on the crisp cotton sheets and tried to relax. Bingo burrowed into the crook of her knees, purring. But instead of sleep, various ways of proving that Priscilla had killed Lorelei played in her head.

By 3 A.M. she was annoyed, by four concerned, and by five resigned to a sleepless night. Fighting fatigue, Skye got up, dressed, and headed to work. At least it was Wednesday. The week was half-over.

Once again, Skye arrived at the high school well before anyone else. Before her swim, she photocopied the diary, intending to give the original to Wally sometime that day. Her stack of evidence was growing. Too bad it didn’t point to any one person.

The first bell had yet to ring, and already she had returned both Simon’s call and her mother’s. Boy, if a person could eliminate the need to sleep, she could really get a lot done.

She was dialing Charlie’s number when he walked into her office and kissed her on the forehead. “So, did Walker kill her?”

“I don’t think so.” Skye craned her neck to look him in the eye. “Sit down.”

“Can’t. I’ve got lots to do this morning.” Charlie ran his fingers through his snow-white hair. “Got to do damage control.”

“Concentrate on the affair.”

Charlie’s face turned red. “But who did kill that girl?”

“I think it was Priscilla VanHorn.” Skye sketched out her reasoning, telling him about her discovery of the diary.

“Not enough to get an arrest.” Charlie paced the room. “Have you told Wally any of this?”

“No. Like you said, I don’t have any proof.”

“I’ll drop the diary off, so you don’t have to be involved with that.”

“Thanks. I think Wally’ll look at it with less prejudice if it doesn’t come from me. How are you going to explain having it?”

“I had a hunch, came over this morning and looked, and there it was.” Charlie moved to the door. “We really need to figure out something before this stuff with Kent Walker permanently damages the school’s reputation.”

I think it’s too late to save our reputation. “It’d also be nice if he didn’t go to jail for a crime he didn’t commit.”

“Yeah.” As Charlie stepped out the door, his voice trailed back into the room, “I’m real worried about that.”

The rest of the day was a total waste. Skye was unable to concentrate on any of her duties or figure out what she should do next about Lorelei’s murder. Finally, a few minutes before the final bell, she had a glimmer of an idea. The key to the murderer’s identity was the juice bottle. It was so unusual that only one chain of stores in the Chicago area carried it. Which meant that odds were, the person in Scumble River who drank it was the killer.

So, if Skye went to the VanHorn’s house and saw bottles of Sea Mist Herbal Enhanced Juice there, then Priscilla was the murderer. She knew finding the drink would never be enough to convict the woman, but she’d figure out how to do that once she knew for sure who the killer was.

Now, what excuse could she use to drop by? A smile crept across Skye’s face. The Principal’s Choice Award. It was given to the best all-around student who excelled in school, the community, and at home. Skye could say she was gathering information on the finalists.

As soon as school ended Skye drove to the VanHorn home. When she explained why she was there, Mrs. VanHorn welcomed her with open arms. “Come in, come in. What a pleasant surprise. I wanted to apologize for hitting your Uncle Charlie the other day at the pageant. I don’t know what came over me.”

“He understands. No harm done.” Skye forced the words out of her mouth, wishing she could say half of what she really thought.

She followed the woman into an overdecorated living room. The walls were covered with pictures of Zoë and plaques she’d won—mostly for second place. A thick rose carpet showed every footprint as the women made their way to the furniture.

Mrs. VanHorn nearly pushed Skye into a puffy, chintz-covered chair. “Sit down. Can I get you something to drink?”

Skye hid her smile. Things were working out just as she planned. She crossed her fingers and said, “Why, thank you. I hate to be a bother, but I’m on a new diet, and the only things I’m allowed to drink are herbal enhanced juices. You wouldn’t happen to have any, would you? I particularly like the ones Sea Mist puts out.”

“Gee, I’m sorry. All we’ve got is Diet Pepsi, coffee, tea, milk, or regular old orange juice.” She twisted the handkerchief she held. “I could run next door and see if they have any of that herbal stuff, while you look at Zoë’s photo albums.”

Skye felt a stab of disappointment. Either Priscilla VanHorn wasn’t the murderer, or she was a lot smarter than she looked. “Oh, I couldn’t put you out.” To be absolutely sure Priscilla didn’t have the juice, she needed a peek in the fridge and pantry. She was counting on the Scumble River code of hospitality, which said you must make every attempt to get the guest what he or she wants.

“Nonsense. It’ll just take a second. Myrna owes me.” Priscilla turned to leave, but said over her shoulder, “The photo albums are under the coffee table.”

As soon as Skye heard the door close, she shot out of the chair. The kitchen was visible at the end of the hall. She hurried into it and flung open the refrigerator door. No Sea Mist. While she was at it, Skye checked the pantry and the attached garage. No herbal juice anywhere.

She sank back in the overstuffed chair just as she heard the front door open and Mrs. VanHorn’s voice say, “Sorry, no luck. They didn’t have any of that stuff either.”

Skye thought quickly. She needed information on the Ingels, and who best to give it than their number one rival? “That’s all right. I appreciate the effort. Looking at all these wonderful photos of Zoë, I couldn’t help but notice Lorelei and her mother are in most of them.”

Mrs. VanHorn frowned. “Lorna’s so pushy. It wasn’t enough that her daughter won all the contests, she couldn’t even let poor Zoë enjoy her moments as finalist and first runner-up.”

“It was mostly Lorna, not Lorelei, pushing into the spotlight?”

“Definitely. You know that poor, sweet girl wanted to quit, and her mama wouldn’t let her.” Priscilla sat back and sighed. “I suppose now Lorna will focus all her energy on Linette, poor child.”

“I’d heard that Lorelei wanted out, but I don’t understand why.”

“Well, Lorelei wasn’t naturally thin like my Zoë, and she was sick of the pills and the diets, but Lorna just insisted she maintain her size-two figure.”

Skye tsked. “I wonder why it was so important to Mrs. Ingels.”

“I heard an interesting story about that.” Priscilla leaned forward. “Seems that Lorna was quite the beauty-pageant winner in her day. She won all the titles, up to Miss Illinois. And right before she was supposed to compete in that contest, she started to gain weight. Turned out she was five months pregnant. Because she was so thin, she often missed her period, so she had no idea.”

Skye did the math in her head. If Lorelei were the child of that pregnancy, that would make Lorna only thirty-six and Skye knew the woman was older than that. “Did Lorelei have an older sibling?”

“No, Lorna miscarried that baby.” Priscilla clasped her handkerchief to her chest. “So sad. No crown, no baby, and a marriage you’ve been forced into. Not a lot to count for your life’s achievements.”

It took an hour for Skye to extricate herself from Priscilla VanHorn’s verbal grasp. She’d had to look at every album, award, and trophy, and promise to write a glowing recommendation for Zoë for the Principal’s Choice Award before the mother would allow her to leave.

Now she sat at home, rubbing Bingo’s chin and thinking furiously. If Priscilla VanHorn wasn’t the murderer, then it had to be Lorna Ingels. Even though Lorelei didn’t know she was pregnant yet, her mother might have suspected it due to the missed periods, and perhaps thought that Lorelei would go through exactly what she herself had. But was Lorna twisted enough to think she was saving Lorelei by killing her?

The furiously ringing phone aroused Skye from her reverie. Dumping Bingo onto the sofa, she raced the answering machine, and scooped up the receiver up with one ring to spare. “Hello.”

“Oh, Skye, thank God you’re home. We need a favor.”

Skye wasn’t sure which twin was speaking. “Ginger? Gillian?”

“It’s Ginger. Could you go get Iris and Kristin?”

“Now?”

“Yes! They’re supposed to be picked up at six, which was perfect because we were supposed to get off work at five-thirty, but our cash drawers aren’t balancing and the computer’s going crazy and no one is allowed to leave the bank. We’ve tried everyone, and no one is home.”

“Sure, I’ll get them. Where are they?”

“That’s just it. They’re at Linette Ingels’s.”

How convenient. I need to look around that house for the juice bottle.

Ginger continued, interrupting Skye’s thoughts, “Lorna gets so pissy if we’re late picking the kids up from her house.”

This was the first time Skye had ever heard her cousin sound intimidated. She wondered why Ginger found Lorna so alarming. She looked at the clock on the microwave. It was ten to six. “Okay, I’d better go right now. I’ll bring them back here until you get off work.”

“Thanks. We owe you one.”

Skye arrived at the Ingels’ house at one minute before six. Their Polish housekeeper answered the door, and Skye explained she was there to pick up the girls.

The housekeeper gestured her into the foyer and left the room. When she returned she said in heavily accented English, “Girls are watching video with Miss Linette. Tape will be over in ten minutes. You wait?”

“Sure, no problem.” Skye looked around for somewhere to sit. “Are Mr. and Mrs. Ingels home?”

“No, they are out.” The woman turned. “I need to watch dinner. You would like to sit in library?”

“I’ll just sit in the kitchen and keep you company, if that’s okay?” Skye was counting on the housekeeper’s good manners.

A fleeting frown crossed the woman’s forehead. “Sure, sure, this way.”

The kitchen was huge, with stainless-steel appliances and marble counters. The housekeeper tried to steer Skye to an oak table that could seat twelve without crowding, but Skye edged her way to a stool at the counter, closer to the action.

The woman went to the stove and stirred something in a pot, then checked a pan in the oven. Turning back to Skye, she asked, “You would like drink?”

“Yes, thanks.” Before the housekeeper could react, Skye hopped off her stool and scurried over to the fridge. “Go ahead with your cooking, I’ll get it myself.”

It felt awful to be so pushy, and Skye was a little ashamed of herself for taking advantage of the woman, but she was hoping the housekeeper wouldn’t know how to say no to a guest.

Skye flung open the refrigerator door and peered inside. She needed to get a good look before the housekeeper stopped her. She scanned the shelves starting at the top. The bottom shelf contained row after row of Sea Mist Herbal Enhanced Juices.

The housekeeper loomed between Skye and the fridge. “I will get your drink. You sit, please.”

“Okay, thanks.” Skye had seen what she came for. “Could I have a Sea Mist please? Vapor if you have it.”

The woman took a bottle from the shelf and turned to the cupboard.

Skye rushed to stop her. “Ah, I’d prefer it from the bottle, please. No glass.”

The housekeeper handed Skye the drink.

Skye broke the cellophane seal around the neck and twisted off the gold cap. Hearing the pop, she knew that it was safe to drink. As she sipped and watched the housekeeper cook, she scratched at the label to see if it would come off.

The woman’s voice surprised her. “Ah, you are like Mrs. Ingels. She, too, always must try to peel off label of this drink. Then she break her nail and be upset. But she never learns. And I have mess.”

As Skye made sure that Iris and Kristin were buckled into the backseat of the Bel Air, she kept seeing the rows and rows of juice in her mind. While she made the girls toasted cheese sandwiches and tomato soup for supper, she kept hearing the housekeeper talk about Mrs. Ingels peeling off the labels. So, when the twins finally picked up their daughters at nearly eight o’clock, what they had to say didn’t register with Skye until they were almost out the door.

“Whoa!” Skye grabbed Ginger’s arm. “Did you say that there’s a lot of money missing from the bank, and they can’t find Allen Ingels?”

“You never listen to what we say.”

“Sorry,” Skye answered automatically. “Tell me again.”

Gillian sighed. “Well, as we just said, at first, when our drawers didn’t balance they thought it was a computer glitch. Then they started checking further, and all of a sudden Mr. Yates was rounding everyone up and questioning all of us individually.”

Ginger jumped in. “From what we can guess and what we overheard, over a million dollars is gone from the accounts, and it could be more. And they kept calling and calling, but no Mr. Ingels anywhere.”

“Wow!”

“Anyway, we’ve got to go.” The twins and their daughters swept out of Skye’s cottage, amid hugs and thank-yous.

Silence abruptly descended. Skye tried to figure out what to do with her knowledge. It was obvious she’d have to go to Wally, and how mad would he be that she had seen the diary?

The answer was obvious. The longer she waited, the bigger the chance that something else would happen. Even as she contemplated, the Ingels could be leaving the country for someplace without extradition.

She grabbed the phone and punched in the police-station number. “Scumble River Police, May speaking. Can I help you?”

“Mom, me. Is Wally around?”

“No. You know he works days.”

Skye bit her lip. There was no other choice. “Call him at home and have him meet me at the PD.” She explained the situation.

“I never heard a thing about the bank. Are you sure?”

“That’s what the twins said.”

“That’s where all our money is. What should we do?” Suddenly May sounded weak and old.

“It’s okay, Mom. Even if Allen Ingels did steal a lot of cash, everyone’s money is secure. Remember the FDIC insurance?”

“Right.” May gave a relieved sigh. “Let me call Wally on the other line. You hang on.”

Skye could hear her mother lifting the receiver and talking. No fancy Muzak for the Scumble River police.

Finally, May came back. “He’ll be here in five.”

“See you soon, bye.”

Skye grabbed her purse and headed out the door.

The night was chilly. She had finally managed to get the top to stay up on the Bel Air, but the heat still didn’t work. Even so, she snuggled into the comfy seat and smiled. The car was growing on her, although she’d never get used to the fan club it attracted wherever she went.

Wally was waiting for her as she pulled into the police station’s parking lot. “What took you so long?”

“Traffic jam,” she answered with a straight face. By nine o’clock the Scumble River streets were empty.

“Very funny. So what’s this about Allen Ingels and the bank? And how did you happen to read a diary that Charlie found only this morning?”

“Can we go inside? I’m freezing.”

The chief opened the door and gestured her through. “Go up to my office. I’ll be right there.”

Skye waved to her mom on her way through, then lingered on the stairs, curious as to what Wally was up to. She heard him sending a patrol car to the Ingels’ to check for lights.

“Even if the lights are on, it doesn’t mean Allen and Lorna are there,” she said, as he entered and sat behind the desk.

A raised eyebrow was his reply.

“The housekeeper and Linette were there earlier this evening. One or both could still be there.”

“So, tell me everything. Start with the bank.” Wally hunched over a yellow pad.

Skye related what her cousins had said, then asked, “Didn’t Yates report this?”

“Nope, first I’m hearing about it.”

“Isn’t that odd?”

“Nope, bank would be afraid to say anything that could cause a run on the deposits.” Wally looked up and grinned. “ ’Course they’re pretty silly to think the tellers wouldn’t talk—especially your cousins.”

Skye shrugged, avoiding that slippery slope. “Do you think the missing money has anything to do with Lorelei’s murder?”

“Possibly. Now, tell me about the diary.”

Skye confessed everything, and waited for his wrath to descend.

Instead, he said in a mild voice, “You should have come to me last night when you first found the diary.”

“And what would you have done?”

“Read it.”

“Ah, but would you have let me read it?” Skye asked.

“If it contained something I thought you could explain or help with.”

Skye was silent.

“On the other hand, I will admit that we would probably never have found it without your snooping around.” The chief smiled slightly. “So, what’s your take on it?”

She explained her theory.

“That’s a lot of speculation and conjecture. Especially your idea that Lorelei didn’t know she was pregnant.”

“Believe me, a teenage girl would definitely mention something like that in her diary. Maybe in the outside world she’d act like nothing was happening, but she would pour her heart out on those pages.”

“Okay, that clears Troy, but Kent still has a motive.”

“What?”

“He was dating a student and could have lost his job.”

“No, see here’s the thing. He couldn’t care less about losing his job. His dad is making him work. He’d love to be fired and go home. His family is filthy rich. Which means no motive for him either.”

“Let’s say you’re right. Who does that leave?”

“I think I’ve eliminated Mrs. VanHorn and Zoë.”

He raised his eyebrow again.

Skye tried to remember when she had found that characteristic gesture sexy instead of annoying. She explained her visit to the VanHorns’ and the juice bottle.

“Again, who does that leave?”

“You’re not going to like this, but remember what Sherlock Holmes said? ‘When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.’ ”

“I’m waiting.”

“Okay, but listen to all my reasons before jumping down my throat.” Skye sat straighter. “I think it’s Mrs. Ingels.”

The chief was silent for a moment before saying, “Why?”

“The strongest evidence is the juice bottle. It’s a very rare brand and the label was peeled just like the housekeeper said Lorna Ingels did. Then there’s the diary. It clearly shows how controlling Lorna was, and how ticked she was at Lorelei for dropping out of the pageants and cheerleading and all the other stuff that was so important to the woman. That gives her motive and opportunity. She certainly had access to Lorelei’s diet pills, so that gives her means.” As Skye finished listing her case, it sounded measly even to her.

Wally rocked back in his chair and stared at the ceiling. “There’s just not enough evidence. A juice bottle with a peeled label and a mother who doesn’t like the fact that her daughter is gaining weight is not enough to arrest her on, let alone get a conviction.” He stared a while longer. “Even if her prints were on the bottle we found at the murder scene, and we find a bottle of the pills in her medicine cabinet, there could be a logical explanation.”

“So she gets away with it?”

“Unless we find some hard evidence.” Wally gave a dry laugh. “Or unless she confesses.”

“Maybe I could get her to confess. Unless, of course, she’s in Bolivia by now.”

“Not a good idea.”

“Do you have another plan?”

“No.” The chief stood. “But I do need to look into this bank matter, so if you’ll excuse me . . .”

Skye followed him down the stairs, waving to her mom on the way out.

Wally walked her to her car. “Go home, get some sleep.” He put his hand on her cheek. She felt the calluses in his rough palm. “Please don’t put yourself in danger.”

She swallowed a lump in her throat. “I won’t if you won’t.”

He leaned closer and pressed a soft kiss to her temple. “Let’s both be careful.”

CHAPTER 23

A Thing of Beauty Is a Toy Forever

At five the next morning, the phone woke Skye from a light doze. She had spent another restless night before finally falling asleep around four-thirty.

“Skye, you awake?”

She was too tired to come up with a smart remark to her mother’s dumb question. “Yeah, what’s up?”

May was whispering, which meant she was still at work. “Allen Ingels really has disappeared. Car’s gone, safety-deposit box cleaned out, and closet empty.”

“Wow! What about the rest of the family?”

“Lorna claims she doesn’t know a thing about it.” May’s voice got lower and more serious. “Looks like he took Linette, too.”

“Oh, my! Mrs. Ingels must be frantic.” Skye wondered if Allen knew his wife had killed their older child. Maybe he was trying to protect his youngest daughter.

“Not really. Wally said she seemed almost like she couldn’t care less.”

“Mmm. Why don’t you meet me for breakfast at the Feedbag? I want to run some ideas by you.”

“Okay. I’ll keep my eyes open.” May sounded energized.

“Great. Say, how about calling Charlie and Vince, and seeing if they can join us?”

“You have a plan?”

“Part of one, but this time Wally’s not going to be able to call me the Lone Ranger. If I go in, it’ll be with backup.”

After the call, Skye took a leisurely shower and examined the possibilities. She coaxed her hair into a chignon and put on her most expensive outfit. She didn’t dare wear fake jewelry, so she put on the only real ones she had—the Leofanti emerald ring and a string of pearls her parents had given her for graduation. She wished she had some of the pieces her ex-fiancé had given her, but he had taken them when he moved out on her. Skye thought Lorna would be more willing to talk to someone who seemed her social equal.

After calling the school and telling Opal she would be making home visits that morning, she tucked a small tape recorder into her purse and drove to the restaurant.

Her troops were already assembled. Skye pulled out a chair and sat facing the three expectant faces. “Mom has filled you both in?”

The men nodded.

“Great. Here’s the plan.” Skye outlined what she wanted the others to do while she was attempting to get Lorna to confess. “Any questions?”

Vince was the first to speak. “How can I hear anything if I’m hiding in the bushes? How do you know she’ll ‘entertain’ you in the library and not the living room?”

“By the looks of the living room, no one ever goes in there. And as to you hearing, I’ll tell her I’m warm, and ask that she open the window a crack.” Skye looked around. “Anything else?”

“Why do I have to stay in my car?” Charlie pounded the table. “Are you thinking I’m too old to really help?”

“No. If I thought that, I wouldn’t have had Mom call you.” Skye patted her godfather’s arm. “You need to be on your CB in case we need Wally fast. You’re the only one who’s got any pull with him.”

Charlie grinned. “Ain’t that the truth.”

“Mom, you okay with watching the back of the house?” Skye suddenly looked worried, thinking maybe she shouldn’t have gotten her mother involved. “I could get Trixie if you want.”

May huffed. “The day I can’t take a walk in the cemetery is the day you bury me there.”

“Great. Vince, you take Mom and pick up your old walkie-talkies, so she can alert you if she sees anything. If either of you thinks there’s a problem, Vince tells Charlie, and Charlie calls Wally.”

Everyone nodded.

“Vince, remember that if I say, ‘Oh my, look at the time,’ I’m in trouble. Get help.” Skye looked around the table. “Since the cemetery is the only place where we can inconspicuously park cars anywhere near the Ingelses’, we’ll meet there in fifteen minutes.”

Skye went over her plan in her head as she pulled into the Ingels’ driveway. Her mom should be in place with binoculars, Vince would be along the library side of the house in the bushes, and Charlie would pull into position as soon as Lorna shut the door after Skye.

She rang the bell. No answer. She rang again. Boy, will this be embarrassing if Lorna isn’t home. She looked at her watch. Almost eight. It should be the perfect time. Lorna should be up and dressed, but not have gone anywhere yet. One more ring. This time the door was inched slowly open.

Not a good sign. Skye was already wrong about one thing. The woman wasn’t dressed, and she doubted Lorna had been up yet. Shit!

“Mrs. Ingels, I don’t know if you remember me. I’m Skye Denison, the psychologist from the school.”

The woman turned and walked away, leaving the door ajar. Before following, Skye thumbed up the button in the knob, disengaging the lock.

As Skye trailed Lorna across the foyer, she noted that the woman had continued to go downhill since the last time she had seen her. Today her blond hair hung in hanks, with one side flattened. Her skin seemed to have coarsened, showing large pores, discoloration, and wrinkles. She was dressed in a stained floor-length bathrobe, with bare feet peeking from beneath the hem. Skye felt a momentary twinge of sympathy. If Lorna had killed her daughter, clearly she was suffering for it.

Lorna shuffled into the library and curled up in a wing-back chair. She finally spoke. “What do you want?”

“Ah, I was wondering if I could do anything to help you.”

The woman glared. “Can you bring back my daughter . . . daughters?”

“No, but perhaps I can help you locate Linette. Do you have any idea where her father might have taken her?” Skye reached into her purse and clicked on the tape recorder.

“No.” The word was whispered so low Skye wasn’t sure she had heard it.

Skye perched on the coffee table, which brought her knee to knee with Lorna. She took the other woman’s hand, “Do you know why he would take Linette and leave?”

Lorna jerked her hand away and grabbed a nearby wineglass. “No, why would I?” She gazed into the red liquid as if she would find the answer there.

“Could it have to do with what happened to Lorelei?” Skye persisted gently.

“No.” The woman shook her head wildly.

“Maybe Mr. Ingels thinks he’s protecting Linette by taking her away.”

Lorna’s head snapped up, and she narrowed her eyes, her whole body stiffening. “Why would you say that?”

The swift change in Lorna was a bit frightening. Skye stood to put some distance between them. “Ah, it’s really warm in here. All right if I let in a little air?” Without waiting for an answer, Skye moved toward the window and lifted it several inches.

Lorna’s mouth tightened. “I didn’t say you could do that.”

“Sorry, thought I was going to faint for a minute there. Can’t stand being hot.”

“You’d better leave now.” Lorna rose, finger-combed her hair, and straightened her robe, seeming to notice the large red wine stain near the waist for the first time.

Skye forced herself to go on. “I know this is hard for you to hear, hard for you to think about, but I found Lorelei’s diary. I know what you did.”

“Where? How? You can’t!” Lorna flung herself toward Skye. “I don’t believe you.”

Skye took a hasty step back, but Lorna had grabbed her wrist in a clawlike hold. “The diary was in a gap between the wall and her cheerleader locker. It tells everything,” Skye said.

“You had no right to read that.” Anger seemed to revitalize Lorna.

“Maybe not, but the police do have a right.”

Lorna’s flushed cheeks paled. “The police?”

“Yes, they’ll probably be here to arrest you at any minute. I just thought maybe you’d feel better if you talked about it. I can’t imagine what it would be like to kill my own daughter. It must be tearing you apart inside.” Skye felt a little queasy, as if she were pulling off the legs of an insect. But Wally said that they needed a confession, and it wouldn’t be fair to Lorelei if her death went unsolved.

“I never meant any of this to happen.” Lorna wilted again, releasing Skye’s hand. “A month ago I had a successful husband, two beautiful daughters, and a life that everyone in Scumble River envied.” She was silent for a moment before continuing, “You know, you can do something in an instant that will give you heartache for a lifetime.”

“Sounds like you were living a fairy tale. What made things go wrong?”

“It was all Lorelei’s fault.” Lorna sank into the love seat, facing away from Skye.

Skye was forced to move away from the door to see her face. “Lorelei’s fault?”

“She was a beautiful girl. And so smart and talented. She had everything. Sometimes I even thought she might be psychic.”

Skye blinked. Psychic? Please. “Sounds like she had it made.”

Lorna nodded eagerly. “That’s right. And was she happy? No. I made sure she had the most beautiful clothes. And for the pageants, she never had to wear a costume twice. I did everything to ensure she’d win. She could have been Miss America, but she wanted to throw it all away. I couldn’t let her do that.”

“How could you stop her?”

“I talked her out of quitting cheerleading and the play, and made her promise to do one last pageant.” Lorna gazed feverishly at Skye. “I figured if she won Miss Central Illinois, she’d see how important it was to go on, but she made sure she’d never get that crown.”

“By gaining weight?”

“Yes, she just kept eating. I knew that if I didn’t do something right away, she’d end up as fat as you. She wanted to eat three meals a day, for godsake. And she’d hardly exercise anymore. She was down to only three times a week at the gym. But that wasn’t the worst part.”

Skye overlooked the personal insult and guessed, “Lorelei stopped taking the diet pills?”

“Yes.” Lorna shook her head. “She got so fat. She went from a size two to a size eight in a matter of three or four months. None of her clothes or costumes fit. It was a nightmare. And she still wouldn’t take the pills.”

“It must have been hard to watch.” Skye hoped she wouldn’t gag on the words she was forcing out of her mouth. “So, you just had to do something to stop her.”

“To help her. I did it to help her.” Lorna suddenly lunged forward and grabbed Skye by the shoulders. “You’ve got to make sure everyone knows I only did it to help her.”

“Help her?” Skye tried to back away, but the woman was stronger than she looked, and her nails were digging into Skye’s flesh.

“Yes, I started slipping the diet pills into her food, but the dose she had been on before wasn’t working.” Lorna’s hands tightened on Skye’s shoulders.

“Lorelei didn’t know you were feeding her diet pills?”

“No, of course not, she wouldn’t have taken them if she knew.”

Skye tried to edge toward the door. “Oh, I see. So what happened?”

“I kept giving her higher and higher dosages. Then that Wednesday I was going to be away all afternoon and evening, and I was afraid she’d really binge if she didn’t get her pills.”

“How often did you feed her those pills?”

“Three times a day. Anyway, where was I? Oh, yes, so I took a bottle of her favorite juice and added a handful of crushed pills. After I met with the other cheerleaders’ mothers that morning, I found Lorelei and gave the drink to her. She loved that juice, and usually I didn’t let her have it since it was three hundred calories a bottle, so I knew she’d drink every drop.”

“Then you went out of town so you’d have an alibi.”

“What did I need an alibi for?” Lorna let go of Skye and looked confused. “I went to get my hair done.”

“An alibi for the murder of your daughter.”

“I didn’t murder Lorelei. Why would I want to kill my own daughter? It was an accident. I just wanted her to stay beautiful.”

“But you killed her.” The words slipped out before Skye could stop them. And judging from the look on Lorna’s face, they were a mistake.

Without warning the woman lunged and wrapped her hands around Skye’s throat. Both women toppled to the floor. Skye tore at the other woman’s hands, panicking at the sensation of not being able to breathe. It took her a moment to realize that Lorna was about half her size, and by flipping the smaller woman on her back, Skye easily pinned her to the ground, using her weight as leverage.

Lorna let go of Skye’s throat and started pounding on her chest. “You cow, get off me.”

Skye wished she had an extra hand to slap the hysterical woman. Instead she shouted, “Oh, my, look at the time.”

“What? Are you crazy? How can I look at the time with you on top of me?” The woman struggled. “You’re breaking my back. I’m going to sue, you fat cow.”

Skye ignored Lorna’s curses and threats. She had a bigger problem. What to do? Vince must not have heard her. For now, Lorna was secure, but if Skye got up off her, the woman would either run or attack again. They were at a stalemate.

Before Skye could formulate a plan, the front door slammed open, and Vince ran into the room saying, “Skye, something’s wrong with Mom. I heard a scream on the walkie-talkie and now I can’t get a response. You run for Charlie. I’m going out back to see what’s—” He stopped abruptly, staring.

Lorna grew still, and her demeanor changed instantly. “Vince, darling, your sister has gone crazy. She’s hurting me. Please help.”

Vince frowned and flicked a look at Skye.

She made a face. “Vince, get something to tie her up with.”

He looked around. “What?”

Her mind worked frantically. “The electrical cords on the lamps.”

Lorna yelped, “Don’t touch those lamps. They’re originals by Tiffany.”

Vince ignored her, ran to the nearest end table, and yanked the wire from the base, returning with the cord. Even though she fought him, he easily secured Lorna’s ankles, and then repeated the procedure for her wrists. As soon as he was finished, Skye jumped up and between them they tied Lorna to the desk chair with the sash from her robe.

Within minutes, Vince and Skye were running toward the cemetery. They arrived at the end of the Ingelses’ property at the same time. Vince had longer legs and was in better shape, but Skye was still jazzed with adrenaline from her wrestling match with Lorna. A few inches in front of them the graveyard began.

Skye paused, listening. Which direction? Sounds of scuffling indicated the way. She slowed down, picking her way carefully among the plaques and grass-covered mounds. Vince followed silently. As they advanced, Skye began to hear voices and she slowed further, going from headstone to headstone, crouching behind the granite markers.

A huge gray marble slab with a teardrop shape cut out of the top allowed her to stand upright and peek through it without being seen.

May was sitting on a flat headstone, and Allen Ingels held a pistol pointed at her head. May was speaking. “You never answered me. What did you do with my money?”

Allen looked a wreck. His hair was in disarray, allowing his bald spot to show through. The knee of his suit had been torn, and the lining of his jacket hung beneath the hem. He wiped a soiled hand across his eyes, leaving dirt on his cheeks. “Shut up. I’ve got to think. What am I going to do with you?”

“Give me back my money.” May cocked her head. “It’s not right what you did to this town.”

“You’re forcing me to shoot you,” Allen gritted out from between clenched teeth. “You’re just like Lorna and Linette—totally selfish. If that little brat hadn’t insisted she had to have her crown, we could be in Mexico by now.”

“Why did you take her then?”

He looked puzzled. “I couldn’t leave her with Lorna. Not after she told me last night about ‘accidentally’ killing Lorelei with those damn diet pills of hers. She’d already started Linette on them. What was I supposed to do, wait for another ‘accident’?”

May reached out as if to pat his arm, but he stepped back, out of contact. “Save your pity. Linette and I will be just fine as soon as I take care of you.”

May clasped her knees. “Why did you do this, Allen? You had money. You didn’t need ours.”

His laugh was raw. “That’s what everyone thinks, but when the bank was sold last year, the new company cut my salary in half right away. We couldn’t live on that amount.”

“But your family has had money, what about that?”

“With a wife and kids like mine, that money was gone long ago. We live from paycheck to paycheck.” Allen’s voice was dazed.

“Look, why don’t you just turn yourself in? I’m sure Wally will see that things go okay for you, especially if you give back the money.”

Allen clutched his head with both hands, momentarily directing the pistol away from May. “Shut up! You’re driving me crazy!”

As soon as Allen’s aim drifted from May’s head, Skye signaled Vince and they darted forward.

But before they could cover the uneven ground, Wally stepped out from behind a small group of trees and leveled his gun at Allen. “Drop it.”

Allen stared at the police chief for what seemed an interminable second before he let his weapon fall to the ground.

Officer Quirk and a couple of county deputies emerged from their cover in the foliage. They handcuffed Ingels.

“You might want to pick up Lorna Ingels too, ” Skye said. “She’s in the house, tied to a desk chair in the library.”

Wally shook his head. “What have you done now?”

Skye explained about the confrontation and handed over the tape recorder containing Lorna’s confession.

“Okay, men, take Mr. Ingels away, and while you’re in the neighborhood, pick up his wife.”

Skye heard one of the officers reading Allen Ingels his rights as they walked away.

Vince and Skye had been standing with their arms around May. Now, they all spoke at once.

Vince gave May a hard squeeze. “I was so worried.” Skye patted her mother’s back. “How could you say those things to him?”

May looked them both over, and said, “What took you two so long?”

After a few minutes, Vince led May away. Skye turned to Wally, who had been leaning against a tree trunk, silently observing. “How did you end up out here? Were you following Allen?” she asked.

“Nope. I was following you.” He straightened. “What did you expect after our last conversation? I knew you’d go after Mrs. Ingels.”

“You didn’t have to do that. I had my own backup.”

“Are you referring to the Three Stooges? A seventy-year-old man sitting in a Cadillac, a defenseless middle-aged woman, and a hairdresser?”

Skye crossed her arms. “Who does that make me? Shemp?” She was none too happy about being called the fourth stooge, even if Shemp was her favorite.

Wally grinned. “If the stooge fits.”

Epilogue

It was hard for Skye to drag herself to school on Friday. Her throat hurt from Lorna’s attempt to strangle her, and every muscle in her body ached. Worst of all, her four-hundreddollar suit was ruined. She was seriously depressed.

She vowed that she would go to work, do what had to be done, and sneak home early. The most urgent item on her schedule was to talk to Lorelei’s friends . . . and enemies, so they could have closure. There would be an assembly first hour to tell everyone in the school what had happened, but the kids most closely involved deserved to be told in private.

Skye arranged for extra chairs to be set up in the guidance office and asked the various homeroom teachers to send the teens on her list to the guidance office as soon as the bell rang. They filed in silently. Zoë and Frannie immediately claimed the two seats across from Skye’s desk. Troy drew up a folding chair just behind Zoë, and Justin did the same on Frannie’s side. The rest of the cheerleading squad and Chase occupied the remaining seats.

Skye leaned forward. “I’m sure many of you have already heard some version of what happened yesterday, but I wanted to tell you the true account. Mrs. Ingels was arrested for the accidental death of her daughter. Lorelei had stopped taking a prescription medication that her mother wanted her to take. Without telling her mother, she started to take it again. In the meantime her mom had begun to put it in her food. She ended up with a fatal overdose.”

The teens remained silent. Their expressions ranged from boredom to incredulity.

Skye went on. “To add to this family’s tragedy, Mr. Ingels embezzled the bank’s money, took his youngest daughter, and tried to leave the country. He was caught when he came back to retrieve one of Linette’s belongings. Both Mr. and Mrs. Ingels are in jail, and Linette is staying with a relative in Chicago.”

Zoë yawned. “And you’re telling us all this, why?”

“Well, Zoë, partly so we can all have closure. Lorelei was a big part of everyone’s life, whether they liked her or not. But I guess partly because I thought you all might gain some insight from this mess.”

Justin gestured with his head. “That’s asking a lot from these guys, Ms. Denison. They all have hipatitis.”

“Hipatitis?” Skye asked.

“Yeah, terminal coolness.”

Zoë narrowed her eyes. “Are you getting smart with me?” “How would you know?”

“This is exactly what I mean,” Skye said. “You all make judgments about each other based solely on appearances instead of getting to know each other as real people. I was hoping you would learn something from Lorelei’s tragic experience.”

Justin spoke again. “That’s like saying that someone like Zoë, who looks perfect, could ignore the fact that I don’t look like a Ken doll, and actually date me. It’ll never happen.”

Zoë shrugged. “Sorry, I don’t date out of my species.”

This was obviously a waste of time, Skye decided; she wasn’t making a bit of difference in these kids’ attitudes. Maybe she was being too subtle.

“I guess that’s that then,” she said. “But think about these three things. First, TV is not real life. In real life, people actually have to leave the coffee shop and go to work. Second, and this one is especially for you, Zoë, be nice to nerds. Chances are you’ll end up working for one, or wishing you had married one. And last, if you think your teachers are tough, wait until you get out in the real world. Bosses don’t have tenure, so if their team members don’t work up to their capabilities, they’re fired.”

Later that night Skye, Vince, Charlie, Trixie, Loretta, May, and Jed sat around May’s kitchen table snacking on salami, cheese, and crackers.

“I still don’t understand why you didn’t call me to be part of your backup team.” Trixie said, pouting like a two-year-old who had been denied a trip to Toys R Us.

“It would have been too hard for you to get off work,” Skye answered, before drinking from her glass of pop. “You know how Homer is.”

Charlie puffed out his chest. “She didn’t need more help. The Three Musketeers did just fine.”

Skye hid her grin and did not share with Charlie what the chief had actually called them.

“I can’t believe you talked me into handling another case down here in Skillet River,” Loretta said. “I thought when they released Kent, I was home free.”

Skye slapped her friend on the arm. “It’s Scumble River, Ms. Big Shot. Besides, you like it down here. You get to be a giant catfish in our itsy-bitsy pond.”

“It is kind of fun riling up that cute police chief of yours. He’s single now, you know.” As if they both weren’t well aware of Wally Boyd’s marital status.

Skye’s thoughts flashed to Abby. “I think he’s dating someone,” she said.

“Dating isn’t married.” Loretta grinned, took a sip of ice tea, then turned serious. “I’m surprised you wanted to help Lorna by getting me to represent her. Isn’t she everything you hate?”

Skye squirmed in her chair. It was hard to put what she felt about Lorna into words. “I guess so, but I think she’s a product of our society. The media, the magazines, everything tells us if you aren’t thin, you can’t win. Did someone like Lorna ever really have a chance to think any other way?”

After a pause, Trixie broke the uncomfortable silence. “Speaking of Kent, have you heard from him since he went back to Boston?”

Charlie took a swig of beer and answered, “I met with him after he had been questioned by Wally, and we decided it would be to our mutual advantage if he forgot Scumble River even existed.”

“Mutual advantage?” Vince asked.

“Yeah. He’d get to go back where he fits in, and I wouldn’t tell his father that he’d been screwing teenagers.” May coughed, and Charlie added, “Pardon my French.”

Skye turned to Charlie. “Did you know Allen Ingels was embezzling from the bank?”

He shrugged, a smug look on his face. “Maybe, maybe not. Let’s just say I knew he was up to no good. Wasn’t sure exactly what.”

“With both her folks in jail, what’s going to happen to Linette?” May asked.

Loretta crossed her legs. “Her grandmother is too frail to take care of her, but her mom has a cousin in Chicago. The little girl’s going to go live with her for now, until we see what happens with Lorna.”

“What do you think will happen to Lorna?” Skye asked Loretta.

“Hard to say. She could get off with probation, or she could go to prison for a long time.”

It was the first Saturday in May, and Skye, her mother, and Vince were attending Scumble River High’s production of Sleeping Beauty. Jed had declined to join his family for a night of live theater, stating he preferred his La-Z-Boy and TV.

To everyone’s surprise, Abby had volunteered to direct the musical after Kent was removed from duty. Zoë would be the star and Frannie Ryan had taken her role—the evil fairy.

Justin greeted Skye and her family at the gym door. He had signed up to usher. “Ms. Denison, I saved some seats up front for you.”

Skye smiled at him, blinking away the tears that threatened to leak from behind her eyes. Justin had come so far from that boy who would barely speak. His grades now reflected his IQ rather than his depression, he had joined a couple of clubs, and while still not the most popular kid in his class, he had made a friend or two. It was a moment before she could trust her voice to speak. “How nice of you, Justin. Do you know my mom and brother?”

He ducked his head and said to the floor, “Sure. Mrs. D works at the police station and Vince cuts my hair.”

Skye shook her head. She should have known. It was hard to find two Scumble River citizens who hadn’t met each other.

Justin showed them to their seats and said hurriedly without looking at them, “Frannie’s in the first act. She’s the best one.” Before they could respond, he turned and ran back to his post by the door.

They sat without speaking while the gym filled with spectators. Skye finally said, “It’s hard to believe that only a month ago I found Lorelei’s body on that very stage.”

May shook her head. “You need to forget about all that.”

“I can’t. I thought I knew all about the problems between parents and children, but nothing prepared me for the blind selfishness that ended up killing Lorelei.”

May patted her hand, and Vince put his arm around her shoulders. They sat quietly until the lights dimmed and the music started to swell.

Suddenly, May said, “Well, I feel sorry for Lorna’s mother. That woman sacrificed everything so her daughter could get out of the trailers and have a better life.” May tsked. “But no matter how you try to protect your children, they still eventually get themselves arrested and end up in the local paper.”

Skye and Vince looked at each other in disbelief, then exclaimed in unison, “Mother!”