Murder of a Sweet Old Lady

Praise for the first novel in the Scumble River

mystery series,

Murder of a Small-Town Honey

“Denise Swanson has created a likable new heroine reminiscent of some of our favorite childhood detectives—with a little bit of an edge. Swanson’s writing is clear and precise as she recreates the atmosphere of a small town that everyone who has ever lived in one will recognize. Murder of a Small-Town Honey is a fresh, delightful, and enjoyable first mystery.”

—Charlotte Austin Review

“It’s a charming debut novel that rings with humor, buzzes with suspense, and engages with each page turned. . . . An impressive first novel worthy of praise.”

—Kankakee Daily Journey (IL)

“This mystery contains everything I like in a cozy. . . . Murder of a Small-Town Honey is a super debut; you can’t get any better than this.”—Myself.com

“The story clearly belongs to Skye, who makes this novel soar.”—Harriet Klausner, Under the Covers

“The start of a bright, new series.”—Romantic Times

“Swanson’s first effort, and a lovely one it is, too. With a light touch she’s crafted a likable heroine in a wackily realistic small-town community with wonderful series potential. I suspect we’ll be seeing a lot more of Denise Swanson and Scumble River.”

—P.J. Nunn, Mystery Morgue

“Skye is smart, feisty, quick to action, and altogether lovable.”—I Love a Mystery

SIGNET

Published by New American Library, a division of

Penguin Putnam Inc., 375 Hudson Street,

New York, New York 10014, U.S.A.

First Printing, April 2001

Copyright © Denise Swanson Stybr, 2001

All rights reserved

To my grandparents,

who all died perfectly natural deaths.

Kathryn Votta 1906-1960

Albert Votta, Sr. 1902-1973

Laura Swanson 1902-1997

William Swanson 1900-1977

and

To Purrcie the Cat,

who inspired the character of Bingo.

1979 -1999

Scumble River is not a real town. The characters and events portrayed in these pages are entirely fictional and any resemblance to living persons is pure coincidence.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I would like to thank the following people: Joyce Fla herty for her continuing belief in my talent; Ellen Ed wards for extraordinary editorial expertise; my fellow Deadly Divas Susan McBride, Letha Albright, and Sherri Board for their efforts as promo group extraordinaire; Jane Isenberg, Aileen Schumacher, Laura Renken, and Mary Jane Meier, fellow writers who shared the ups and downs; Cindi Baker, Andrea Pantaleone, and Valerie Mc-Caffrey, friends who let me talk endlessly about my ideas and aspirations; the Windy City Chapter of RWA who are always supportive; Marie Swanson and the late Ernie Swanson, who understood my need for time to write; and, finally, my husband, Dave Stybr, who supports me through this new adventure.

CHAPTER 1

Hey, Diddle, Diddle, the Cat and the Riddle

Skye Denison warily studied the hostile faces of Gus Yoder’s parents. As a school psychologist, she often attended uncomfortable meetings, but this one was murder.

Scumble River High School principal Homer Knapik was seated to her right, and every time she glanced his way, her attention was drawn to the hair growing out of his ears. The long, wiry strands quivered like the curb feelers on a car’s wheels. Skye had heard the students call him Mr. Knitpick behind his back, and she was beginning to understand why. The man could not make a decision to save his life . . . or hers.

Across the table Leroy Yoder raged, threatening the school with everything from a lawsuit to an atomic bomb. He and his wife, Charlene, had come in demanding that their son be allowed to graduate with his class, and nothing either the principal or Skye said seemed to penetrate their anger.

Homer and the parents had been posturing and snarling for more than an hour, with no sign that they would stop anytime soon.

Skye watched in hypnotized fascination as a drop of sweat danced on the tip of Leroy’s off-center nose. In Illinois, even the first day of June could have temperatures reaching into the nineties. The underarms of her own blouse were soaked and she squirmed uncomfortably in the plastic chair’s too-small seat. She thought longingly of her morning swim, the last time she’d been truly cool.

Tucking a loose chestnut-colored curl behind her ear, she narrowed her green eyes and tried once more to intervene, rephrasing what she had been saying over and over again since they had first sat down. “Mr. Yoder, Mr. Knapik and I have told you that whether or not your son graduates is not up to us. It is a matter you must bring up to the school board. Since we have only a week of school left, you need to request a special hearing so you have a decision before graduation night.”

Homer glared in Skye’s direction and Charlene Yoder hunched farther down in her chair, looking as if she would like to cover her head with her arms.

Leroy Yoder swung his massive head toward Skye and pinned her with his frenetic stare. “I want my son to graduate. Gus passed all his courses. You got no right to keep him from getting his diploma with everyone else.”

She felt sorry for these parents. Like many others, they couldn’t let themselves believe that their child could do the awful things of which he was accused. “As Mr. Knapik and I have explained, our handbook states that a student who is in the process of an expulsion is not eligible to participate in any school activities, including graduation. This is a school board policy. We have no choice in the matter.”

“You people should never’ve started this whole thing. Gus didn’t do nothing wrong,” Leroy shouted.

“He tried to rape a girl at knifepoint, and was found with drugs in his possession,” Skye stated calmly.

Charlene Yoder started to speak but was interrupted by her husband, who sprang out of his chair and lunged across the table, bringing his face to within inches of Skye’s. His breath was like a furnace belching rotting eggs, and she unconsciously moved back.

He grabbed her upper arms and dragged her halfway across the conference table. “My son didn’t touch that girl.” Yoder gave Skye a shake as if to emphasize his point. “The boy didn’t have no weapon.” He shook her again. “And Gus don’t use no drugs.”

Skye tried desperately to free herself from his grasp. Her breath was coming in shallow gasps and she felt light-headed. She couldn’t get her voice to work.

Homer seemed paralyzed. Nothing moved, including his eyes.

After a final shake, she was abruptly dropped back into her chair as Leroy Yoder continued, “The whole business will be thrown out as soon as we get ourselves a hearing.” Ignoring his wife, he stomped out of the room, his words trailing behind him: “Let me make myself clear. Either Gus graduates with the rest of his class or you two don’t see another school year.”

It was a relief for Skye to return to her office at Scumble River Junior High. She slid down in the chair until she could rest her head on its back. From this angle, all she could see was the stained white ceiling. The odor of ammonia was strong today, brought out by the humidity, but at least she was spared the sight of the battered, mismatched furniture in the claustrophobic six-by-six foot room.

Skye didn’t dare complain about the conditions. It had taken a minor miracle to get what she had. In the elementary and high schools, she had to scrounge for any open space each time she needed to work with a student. That meant she had to lug any equipment she needed from school to school like a door-to-door salesman. Still, she counted her blessings. She knew of many psychologists who had it worse.

It was nearly one, but she didn’t want lunch. She was still too upset from the morning’s events at the high school to consider eating. Skye was accustomed to parents whose walls of denial went up like the force field on the Star-ship Enterprise, but the Yoders had no clue that their son was hooked on something, and it wasn’t phonics.

Even though she’d been gone from Scumble River for many years before her recent return, Skye remembered that the townspeople liked to handle their problems by themselves. Still, she was upset that Homer had refused to call the police on Mr. Yoder, and had forbidden Skye from contacting them. She rubbed her bruised upper arms and shivered. Yoder had clearly assaulted her and threatened them both.

After brooding for a bit, Skye remembered the emergency chocolate bar she had stashed away for just such an occasion. In one smooth motion she snatched her key ring, turned toward the file cabinet, and retrieved the candy.

She was just peeling back the silver wrapper of a Kit Kat when the PA blared. “Ms. Denison, please report to the office. Ms. Denison, please report to the office.”

Skye reluctantly rewrapped the bar and tucked it into her skirt pocket. Why did everything always have to happen on a Monday?

The junior high’s new principal, Neva Llewellyn, paced outside her door. She had held the job only since September, having been promoted from high school guidance counselor when the previous principal was forced to leave unexpectedly. For some reason, the Scumble River School District had great difficulty holding on to its employees.

“What’s up?” Skye asked as she stopped in front of Neva.

“It’s Cletus Doozier.”

“Junior’s brother?”

“Cousin. His father, Hap, and Junior’s father, Earl, are brothers.”

“I got to know Earl and Junior pretty well last fall. They really helped me out.” She smiled wryly. “That’s quite a family.”

Neva wrinkled her nose. “Wait until you meet Hap. The cheese slid off his cracker long ago.”

“Wonderful. Is that his real name?”

“Far as we know.”

Sighing, Skye asked, “So, what’s up with Cletus?”

“He’s got a black eye and bruises all along the side of his face.”

Skye drew a sharp breath and winced. “Did he say what happened?”

Neva put her hand on the knob. “Says his father beat him up.”

Skye closed her eyes for a moment and shook her head sadly, then gestured for Neva to open the door. She entered the office and looked at the eleven-year-old sitting at the table coloring. He was small for his age, and his feet dangled above the floor. The left side of his face was entirely black and blue.

She pulled up the other chair. “Hi, Cletus, my name’s Ms. Denison. My job is to talk to kids who need help or have something bothering them. Would you tell me what happened to you?”

“Dad beat on me again last night.” Cletus didn’t raise his head from his drawing.

She knew better than to try and touch him. Abused children didn’t like to be handled. “Has this happened before?”

“Yeah, usually when he’s drunk. But this time I thought he was gonna kill me.” Cletus stared at her with dead eyes.

Skye kept her face expressionless with great effort. Pity was the last thing this child would accept. “Cletus, I have to call and report this. Then someone else will want to talk to you. In the meantime, I’m going to get the nurse to look at you. Okay?”

He nodded without emotion and went back to his coloring.

After closing the door, Skye asked Neva to locate the school nurse and fill her in. Then she found Cletus’s cumulative folder and sat down to call the Department of Children and Family Services to report the abuse.

She was surprised when DCFS said they would have a caseworker at the school within the hour and would talk to the parent immediately afterward. It was usually the next day before they sent someone. Skye shrugged. They must be under investigation again.

After Skye completed her call, Neva came over and sat on the edge of the desk. “Be prepared. Hap is not going to take this peacefully.”

Skye reached into her pocket and retrieved the Kit Kat bar. Its smooth chocolate surface felt soothing under her fingertips. She broke it down the middle and handed Neva half. Both women took bites. The afternoon was shaping up to be as bad as the morning had been.

The three o’clock sun beat down hotly as Skye walked toward the parking lot thinking about buying a new car. She had to make a decision. She’d been borrowing her grandmother’s for nine months and that wasn’t right, even if Antonia couldn’t use it anymore. Skye’s Impala had been totaled last fall. Luckily she had walked away without a scratch.

A voice interrupted her thoughts: “Skye! Skye Denison, is that you?”

Skye looked to the left and spotted a woman hurrying across the grassy area that separated the senior from the junior high school. Oh, no, it’s someone else I should remember but don’t. She hated hurting peoples’ feelings by admitting she didn’t recognize them. It was tough to be back in her hometown after having been gone for twelve years.

As the woman got closer, the breeze ruffled her short brown hair from its smooth caplike style and played with the hem of her simple gray knit dress. Everything about her seemed familiar, but it was her expression that finally struck a spark of recognition in Skye. Her open features bore a look of good humor and high spirits.

“Oh my God, Trixie Bensen! What are you doing in Scumble River?” Skye grabbed her old friend and gave her a big hug. Trixie and her family had moved away during the girls’ sophomore year.

Hugging Skye back, Trixie said, “My husband bought the old Cherry farm a few months ago. I’m interviewing for a job at the high school.” She took both of Skye’s hands and stepped back to look at her. “How about you? Don’t tell me you live in town. You vowed never to settle down here.”

By unspoken agreement the women moved to a concrete bench along the sidewalk.

Skye sat with one leg tucked beneath her and said, “Well, I did manage to escape for quite a while. I went to the University of Illinois, then spent several years in Dominica serving in the Peace Corps. After that I attended graduate school and did my internship in Louisiana, and spent a year working in New Orleans.”

“Wow! So how did you get back here?”

“Oh, last year I had a little trouble with my supervisor and ended up breaking up with my fiancé, so I needed a place to recoup. I’ll look for another job in a year or so, once I get a good evaluation.”

Trixie patted her hand. “I’m so sorry for all the bad stuff.” She grinned. “But this is too cool. We’re together again.”

“Tell me what happened since you moved. Why didn’t you write me back?” Skye frowned, remembering how hurt she had been when she never received a reply to her letters.

“When we moved to Rockford, my parents had a misguided idea that I would adjust better if I didn’t have any reminders of Scumble River, so they never gave me any mail. They never told me until I was getting ready to move back here.”

“Well, that explains a lot.”

Trixie screwed up her face and shook her head. “Parents.”

“So tell me the rest.”

“Okay, it’s not very exciting. I finished high school in Rockford. Went to Illinois State for my B.A. and then got my master’s in library science from the University of Illinois. I married Owen Frayne right out of college and we’ve been renting a farm in Sterling until we could save enough to buy our own. And voilà, here we are.” Trixie beamed.

“You might be just in time. A lot of farmland is being purchased by developers who are gambling that Scumble River will become the next satellite suburb of Chicago.”

“Boy, I’ll bet people around here are hot on that subject.”

“Lots of fighting going on between neighbors, and even between fathers and sons.”

Trixie frowned. “That’s a shame. Is your family thinking of selling?”

“No. Grandma Leofanti would rather die than sell an inch of her land.”

“That’s good. Does she still make those fantastic apple slices?”

A look of sadness crossed Skye’s face. “No, I’m afraid not. She’s still strong as an ox physically, but her mind’s not too good for recent stuff, and she forgets to take care of herself sometimes. Around Christmas the family hired someone to live in and make sure she’s okay.”

“That’s too bad. She was such a fun person. So outspoken. And a real feminist. She always seemed ahead of her time. More modern than your aunts.” Trixie was silent for a moment. “Did you have trouble finding someone to take care of her? We sure did when Owen’s mother was sick.”

Skye nodded. “Yeah, we finally had to hire someone from an agency in Chicago. They supply women fresh off the boat from Poland. Mrs. Jankowski, the one we have now, seems okay, but she speaks very little English and that can’t be good for Grandma. Plus, she doesn’t drive, so she and Grandma are both stuck on the farm unless someone picks them up.”

“It makes you scared to get old. Maybe that’s why people stop going to visit the elderly. They see their own future and can’t stand it.” Trixie shuddered.

“At first I sort of felt that way,” Skye admitted. “But then Grandma started telling me the family history. She’d never talk about the past before, so I’m finding out a lot about my family. We’re up to her first year of marriage. Grandpa was not her only fiancé. The first guy got killed in an auto accident. Sounds to me like she married Grandpa on the rebound. I stop by almost every day after school. Actually, that’s where I’m heading when I leave here.”

Trixie jumped up. “You’d better get going then. She’ll be looking for you.” She rummaged in her purse, finally locating a scrap of paper and stubby pencil. “Here, write your number down.”

After Skye complied, Trixie tore the slip in two and wrote her number on the other piece. They hugged and Trixie scurried back the way she had come.

Skye climbed into her borrowed car and turned the air conditioner to max. After pulling her hair into a ponytail, she peeled off her pantyhose, slid on a pair of blue cham bray shorts, and removed her skirt.

The fuel gauge showed less than a quarter of a tank. She’d better stop for gas on her way back from seeing Grandma. Her visit with Trixie had put her behind schedule and she didn’t want to arrive just as her grandmother was sitting down to eat.

Grandma Leofanti lived halfway between Scumble River and the neighboring town of Brooklyn. Skye’s Uncle Dante, her parents, and her Aunt Mona all lived along the same road—separated only by acres of corn and beans. They could all see one another’s houses when the crops weren’t mature.

Heading north, then turning east, she spotted the remains of the original Leofanti farmhouse, which had been leveled in the tornado of 1921. The only thing left was the building’s chimney, which rose out of the field like the stack of a ship sailing on a sea of corn. A few minutes later she passed her relatives’ farms. No one was in the front yards and all the garage doors were closed.

As Skye pulled into her grandmother’s driveway, she noticed a large group of hawks circling the isolated farmhouse, braiding the breeze with their feathered wings. She frowned. That was weird. She didn’t remember ever seeing more than a single hawk at a time before. A shiver ran down her spine and she was glad to emerge from the car’s icy interior into the heat of the June afternoon.

The white clapboard house was situated about a quarter of a mile back from the road, surrounded on three sides by fields. It was small by today’s standards and Skye often wondered how her mother, two younger sisters, and a brother had managed to live there without killing each other.

She had parked in her usual spot beside the garage, and as she crossed the concrete apron, her grandmother’s cat, Bingo, paced anxiously near the front door of the house. He was solid black with a tiny patch of white on his chest. Antonia had told Skye she named the cat Bingo because it was the only way she’d ever get to call out the word, since she never won the game when she played.

Skye bent and scooped him into her arms. “What are you doing here? You know you aren’t allowed outside. Did you get away from Mrs. Jankowski?”

Bingo blinked his golden eyes and yawned. Hoisting the cat up to her shoulder with her left hand, Skye grabbed the knob and pulled with her right, only to stumble backward when the door wouldn’t open. That was odd. First Bingo was outside, and now the door was locked. Grandma hadn’t locked her doors since she’d stopped leaving the house.

The key was kept on a nail hanging on a nearby window frame. Skye used it to open the door and replaced it before going inside. The entryway was painted a dark green, with worn gray linoleum. Its dankness reminded Skye of a cave. Straight ahead, five stairs going up led to the rest of the house.

She called out as she climbed the steps into the kitchen, “Mrs. Jankowski, it’s Skye.”

There was no answer. The kitchen light was off and the stove empty. She set Bingo down. He immediately ran to his water bowl and hunched down for a long drink.

What in the heck was going on? Her grandmother liked to eat at four and it was already ten to. And where was Mrs. Jankowski?

The dining room was empty and the door to the bathroom was open, so she could see that no one was inside. Skye peeked into Mrs. Jankowski’s room. The bed was made and the dresser top was clear.

“Yoo-hoo, anyone here?” Skye’s voice quavered. Had something happened to her grandmother? The only reason she left the house was to go to the doctor. Where was Mrs. Jankowski?

The living room was empty. Grandma’s chair was placed against the wall, squared with the empty eye of the television set. Beside it, her knitting bag was partially open with needles sticking out the top. Pink, blue, and yellow yarn seeped out the edges, indicating that Grandma was working on another baby afghan.

Taking a deep breath, Skye forced herself to walk toward her grandmother’s bedroom. Other than the screened front porch, it was the only place she hadn’t looked.

The door was closed. She knocked. “Grandma, are you okay? It’s Skye.”

No answer. The knob turned easily under her hand but the door squeaked loudly as she pushed it open. At first she couldn’t see because the blinds were drawn and the room was completely dark. Skye fumbled for the light switch.

Grandma Leofanti lay unmoving in the bed, the white chenille spread pulled over her face. The only thing visible was a cloud of snow-white curls. At five feet tall and ninety pounds, she didn’t take up much space on the double bed.

“Grandma!” Frightened, Skye stepped closer and pulled the counterpane down to her grandmother’s chest. Who had put the cover over her head? Antonia Leofanti was claustrophobic and couldn’t abide anything covering her face. She wouldn’t even wear a dress that had to be put on over her head.

Skye’s sense of fear grew. Putting her hand on the old woman’s shoulder, she gently shook her.

Antonia was unresponsive. Skye felt for a pulse, and when she couldn’t feel one, laid her head on her grandmother’s chest, searching for a heartbeat. Nothing. Throwing the bedclothes all the way back she started CPR, ignoring the fact that her grandmother’s body felt cold and stiff.

Oh, please, Grandma, it’s not your time. You haven’t told me the rest of your story yet.

She paused. The CPR wasn’t having any effect, but she bent to try again. The doctor just told us that there was nothing wrong with you physically, that you could live to a hundred. Come on, he gave you twenty more years.

There still was no response, and drawing a ragged breath, Skye conceded defeat. She sat on the floor, laid her head on the bed, and sobbed.

CHAPTER 2

Hub-a-Dub-Dub, Two Men, That’s the Rub

Bingo stood at the open bedroom door, tail and ears flattened, fur ruffled. The sound of his mournful yowls finally penetrated Skye’s prayers.

She rose unsteadily and picked up the cat. “What do I do now, Bingo? Everything feels like it’s out of control. I can’t think.”

The cat twitched his ears and nudged Skye’s chin with his head.

“I need to call someone. Who? The emergency squad? Father Burns?”

Wiggling out of her arms, Bingo landed on his feet and ran from the room.

Skye followed him into the kitchen. She couldn’t call for the police or the ambulance. Skye’s mother, May, worked for the Scumble River Police Department as a dispatcher. She also handled the phones for the fire and emergency departments. Her mom might be working. It wouldn’t be right to have her find out that way.

The cat jumped onto the counter and peered out the window over the sink.

“I should call Father Burns.”

Bingo put his paws on the sill and pressed his nose to the window.

“Maybe I could call Simon. He would know what to do. After all, what’s the use in dating a guy who’s the coroner and owns the funeral home if he can’t take over in a situation like this?”

But instead of picking up the receiver, Skye sat on one of the chairs drawn up to the table. She listened to the roar of the window air conditioner, studied the smell of long-ago cooked meals, and talked to God.

Skye looked at the phone. She hated to make the call, knowing that by doing so she was admitting her grandmother was dead. Sighing, she picked up the handset and punched in the number.

He answered on the first ring. “Reid’s Funeral Home. May I help you?”

“Simon? It’s Skye.”

“What a pleasant surprise. You don’t usually call me at work.” The warmth in his voice washed over her.

“I, ah, don’t like to bother you there, but I need your help.”

“Sure, what’s wrong?” His tone changed to one of concern.

“I’m at my Grandma Leofanti’s and . . .” Skye took a deep breath and forced back tears. “She’s dead.”

“I’m so sorry. Are you alone?”

“Yes.”

“Have you called anyone else?”

“No.” Skye swallowed. “The thing is I’m not sure, I mean it could be a natural death, but, ah, Mrs. J is missing.”

“Sit tight. I’ll be right there.”

The click of the phone being hung up made Skye feel cut off from the rest of the world. Her gaze wandered over the kitchen and she noticed Bingo’s dish was empty. She searched the cupboards, but couldn’t find the cat food. Then she remembered. Grandma believed freshly prepared chicken and fish were better for the feline’s health and kept only a few emergency cans of food in the pantry.

Finally she located the Friskies on a back shelf and emptied the contents of the can into Bingo’s bowl. Skye took the cat from the counter and set him in front of his dish. He sniffed suspiciously, but eventually gave the food a nibble.

Gnawing on her lip, she thought. I hope that wasn’t a “girl” thing to do, turning everything over to Simon to solve my problems.

The sound of tires crunching over gravel captured Skye’s attention, and her glance flew to the window Bingo had been guarding. The garage door was ajar. She was sure it had been closed when she pulled in. Why would anyone go in there? She was driving Grandma’s car and there wasn’t anything else in there but junk.

Maybe it was someone from that survivalist camp a couple of miles down the road. Their property shared a fence with the Leofanti’s back forty and all spring Antonia had complained about them trespassing and hunting on her land.

Skye grabbed a flashlight from a drawer on her way out. She crossed the grassy area between the house and garage at a good clip, but slowed as she neared the door. This was really idiotic. When she read about some heroine doing this in a book, she always called her stupid.

The door swung fully open at her touch. The overhead fixture didn’t come on when she flipped the switch so she thumbed on the flashlight. Staying on the threshold, Skye swept the small interior with the beam. Everything seemed to be the way she remembered it from last September when she’d backed out her Grandma’s old green Buick.

The garage was just big enough for one car, a few boxes, and a couple pieces of discarded furniture. There was no place for anyone to hide and nothing looked disturbed.

Shrugging, Skye backed away and closed the door, making sure it was firmly latched. She circled the house and sat on the front steps. Within seconds Bingo stood at the screen door and yowled until she let him join her.

Questions were starting to intrude upon her grief when she heard the first siren. She stood up for a better look, disturbing Bingo, who had been twining between her ankles. He meowed sharply and disappeared under the porch.

A procession of official vehicles led by a Scumble River police cruiser, followed by an ambulance, with the Reid Funeral Home hearse bringing up the rear, roared down the gravel road.

A man leapt out of the cruiser and another out of the hearse. Both raced toward Skye. Walter Boyd, the chief of police, got there first and put his arm around her shoulder. He was a handsome man in his late thirties whose warm brown eyes held a look of concern. Running his other hand through his thick black curls, he hugged her wordlessly. His hair was just beginning to show threads of gray, but both his tan and muscular build declared him to be a man of action.

While the two paramedics plunged indoors, Simon stopped at Skye’s other side and took her free hand, narrowing his eyes at the chief. In appearance, Simon was the antithesis of Chief Boyd, tall and lean, with elegant auburn hair and golden-hazel eyes.

The chief spoke first. “Your mom wasn’t on duty, so I sent Officer Quirk to find her.”

Skye nodded. “Thanks, Wally.”

It had taken her a year to feel comfortable calling him by his first name. When Wally had first come to Scumble River as a twenty-three-year-old patrolman, Skye, then a teen, had been convinced she was in love with him. She’d followed him around, turning up wherever he took a break or stopped for a meal. He was always a perfect gentleman, never mocking her or taking advantage of the situation. Nevertheless, when she first returned to town she was embarrassed to remember how lovesick she had acted, and she had found it difficult to look him in the eye, let alone call him anything but Chief Boyd.

“I called Vince when no one answered at your folks’,” Simon added, squeezing her hand.

Vince, her brother, owned and operated a hair styling salon called Great Expectations. He was usually the easiest one in the family to locate because he worked there fourteen hours a day.

“Thanks. I’m a wreck. I keep thinking about the stu pidest things.”

Before Skye could elaborate, one of the paramedics poked his head out the door and called for Simon. He kissed her cheek and hurried inside.

Well, that settles it. Grandma is really dead. They don’t call for the coroner otherwise. This thought brought a fresh bout of tears.

Wally held her while she cried on his shoulder. When Skye felt herself melting in his embrace, she made herself stop sobbing and pulled away, reminding herself for perhaps the hundredth time that he was a married man and she was dating Simon.

Using the handkerchief Wally provided, she wiped her face and blew her nose.

“So what ‘stupid things’ are you thinking about?” Wally asked after she had collected herself.

“Where’s the housekeeper?” Skye blurted. “Why were the covers pulled up over Grandma’s face? What was Bingo doing outside? The doctor just said she was fine. Why is she dead?”

Wally patted her shoulder. “Now, Skye honey, there could be lots of reasons for those things. The housekeeper’s a foreigner, right?” Skye nodded. “Well, she could’ve gotten scared when your grandmother died and called for someone to pick her up. The cat probably got out when she left. And she, no doubt out of respect, covered your grandma’s face.”

Wally’s answers made sense, but Skye still felt troubled. Something just didn’t add up.

After a few minutes, Skye sighed and made a move to stand up. “I’ve got to call my aunts and uncle. She’s their mother too.”

“Sure, but why don’t you give Quirk a little while longer to find May so you can tell her first? Isn’t she the oldest?” Wally kept hold of her hand.

“The oldest of the three girls, but my Uncle Dante is the oldest. He’s sixty.”

Before she could break away from Wally, the paramedics poured from the house, yelling, “Gotta go. Another call,” as they rushed by. They piled into the ambulance and squealed out of the driveway, sounding the siren.

They almost crashed into an old Cadillac that came barreling into the drive, throwing up gravel and blowing its horn. It shuddered to a stop and the door was flung open. The six-foot-tall, three-hundred-pound man who emerged from the front seat charged over to Skye.

He grabbed her in a bear hug, lifting her off the ground. “Baby, are you okay? I heard the call about your grandma on my scanner. Sorry it took me so long. I had someone checking in at the motel and I had to get them settled.”

“I’m fine, Uncle Charlie. Everything is under control.” Skye managed a tremulous smile.

Charlie Patukas was actually her godfather, not her uncle, but he was closer to her family than most of their blood relations. Charlie owned the Up a Lazy River Motor Court, and had a hand in most of the town’s business. He had always been protective of Skye and Vince, but since she’d moved back to town last fall and gotten involved in solving a murder, his concern had often led him into the realm of paranoia.

The chief watched them for a moment, then shrugged. “I’ll go take a look at the housekeeper’s room.”

Skye related to Charlie the events leading up to her call to Simon, then spent the rest of the time in silence.

Quite a while later Simon joined them on the front steps. He spoke softly. “I’ve done what had to be done before we could move her.”

Simon stepped back inside to talk to Wally, but Skye could hear their conversation. Simon’s voice was low, but clear. “Since she died unattended, we’ll have to keep her until we can determine the cause of death.”

Wally’s deeper tone was a little harder to discern. “Fine, I’ll call Doc Zello and have him meet you at the funeral home. He recognizes death by old age when he sees it.”

Skye frowned. Wally was still treating her like she was fifteen and dismissing her concerns.

Simon had already left with her grandmother’s body when May’s white Oldsmobile careened into the driveway. The chief was looking around inside the house and Charlie was with him, supervising.

May flung the door open and ran to Skye. “Are you okay, honey?”

Skye saw the tears running down her mother’s cheeks. “I’m fine. How about you?”

“It’s such a shock. Doc Zello saw her just a few days ago, and said she was in excellent health.” May sat down on the front porch beside Skye.

May was only five feet two, with short salt-and-pepper hair and eyes the same green as her daughter’s. Skye got her height from the Denison side of the family.

“I was out back planting flowers when Quirk came over. Thought for a minute they needed me at work.” May dabbed her eyes with a tissue. “Vince will be here in a little bit. He’s looking for Dad in the field.”

“How about Aunt Mona, Aunt Minnie, and Uncle Dante?” Skye asked.

“I tried all their houses before I left. No answer anywhere.” May shook her head. “Hope we can find them before the grapevine does.”

That was odd. None of the women worked outside their homes. It was a Monday and almost five, supper time for most farm families. They all should be in their kitchens cooking. Where could they be?

Skye was sitting on the sofa talking softly to May and Charlie when her brother, Vince, arrived. He was an extremely handsome man of thirty-five. Although Vince had the Leofanti green eyes, his hair was a rich butterscotch blond. They never could figure out to what ancestor he owed its color.

After greeting everyone, Vince took a seat next to his mother and patted her hand. “Dad’s on his way.”

“Thanks, hon.”

A few minutes later, Skye’s father entered the room. He snatched a John Deere cap off his head, revealing a steel-gray crew cut and faded brown eyes. His tanned face crinkled like a leather handbag when he frowned.

Jed nodded to everybody and lowered himself into a side chair. “I’m sorry, May. Antonia was a good woman.”

They all agreed, and then sat silently, Skye getting up to let Bingo back in when he meowed at the door.

Chief Boyd coughed politely, standing at the archway between the dining and living rooms. When they became aware of his presence, he entered.

As soon as he was settled on the edge of an overstuffed chair the chief spoke. “Looks like that housekeeper of yours hightailed it out of here. The closet and drawers in her room are empty, and there’s no sign of any personal possessions. Do you have a way to reach her?”

“The only thing we have is the number of the agency we hired her through. We send our check to them, and they pay her from that,” May said.

“Well, I’ll need that address and number as soon as possible.” Wally shifted in his chair.

“I’ll get it to you first thing tomorrow.” May turned to Jed. “Don’t let me forget.”

Jed mumbled something that seemed to satisfy May.

The chief made a motion as if to get up, but May asked, “Why did Simon take her away before we got here?”

He looked down at his immaculately polished shoes and reached down to rub out an imaginary scuff mark. “Well, if a person dies alone, not in a hospital or with a doctor attending, then it’s considered suspicious until we get someone to sign off on the cause of death.” He stopped, obviously choosing his next words carefully. “So Simon had to take certain precautions in case things were ever needed for evidence.”

“I see. I guess I knew that from work.” May’s face screwed up, but she didn’t cry. “When can we make the arrangements?”

“Real soon, I expect. Doc Zello is good about taking care of things like this.” The chief stood and edged toward the door. “I’m going to get going now, unless I can do something for you folks.” He looked at May. “I’m sorry for your loss. Take as much time off work as you need.”

May nodded her thanks.

Skye finally remembered to call Father Burns. After that, she and her mother took turns on the phone trying to reach May’s sisters and brother.

Vince was sent to check the various fields that the different families owned, rented, and/or farmed; Jed went back to their place to take care of the equipment; and Charlie finally agreed to go home.

It was nearly seven and they had still failed to get in touch with any of the siblings. Skye and May sat at the kitchen table drinking from cans of soda. There was an untouched plate of saltine crackers and cheese in front of them.

May subtly nudged the food nearer to Skye. “Where in the heck could everyone be? I know the guys are probably staying late in the fields. Those heavy spring rains really put everyone’s planting behind schedule. But Minnie, Mona, and Olive should be home.”

Skye absentmindedly took a wedge of cheddar. “Should we try their kids’ numbers?”

“Soon, but I wanted to tell my sisters and brother about Mom before we told their kids.” May took a cracker but didn’t put it in her mouth. “When Vince gets back, we’ll have him take a ride by the cousins’ houses and see if their parents’ cars or trucks are there.”

“I could do that right now.” Skye put the cheese down.

Minnie’s twin daughters, Ginger and Gillian, lived next door to each other in town. Dante’s son, Hugo, lived in Clay Center, only fifteen minutes away.

“No, honey, stay with me. Okay?” May squeezed Skye’s knee.

“Sure, Mom. As long as you want.”

Vince got back about an hour later. Some of the farmland was as far away as Streator. He flung himself into a chair and grabbed a piece of cheese. “I found Uncle Emmett. He was over near Gardner. Says Aunt Minnie is at Carle Clinic and he’ll call her.”

May paled. “What’s wrong with Minnie? Why’d she go all the way down to the hospital in Urbana by herself?”

Vince shrugged and took a cracker, which he carefully layered with Swiss. “Uncle Emmett didn’t say. I was in a hurry to find the others so I didn’t stick around and ask. Sorry.”

“That’s okay, sweetheart. You did a good job. Did you find anyone else?” May got up and took the bread from its box.

“Nope. No one was at home or in any of their fields.”

May put out sliced roast beef and chips. “I’m going to call Hugo. Maybe he knows where his parents are. I don’t know what to do about Mona and Neal, since they don’t have any children.” She nodded toward the food on the table. “Make yourself a sandwich, kids. This is stacking up to be a long night.”

About eight-thirty Jed returned and sat down at the table. May immediately filled a plate for him and he started to eat without a word. Lines of exhaustion creased his forehead and radiated from his eyes. During spring planting, farmers often worked from dawn until they could no longer see by using their tractor’s lights.

She spoke while he chewed. “Minnie’s down at Carle Clinic. God knows why. I sure hope she doesn’t have one of her spells when we tell her about Mom.” She paused to put more food on Jed’s dish. “Emmett and the twins should be here soon. Hugo says his parents left for an auction about five, and were going to stop for dinner afterward. Still nothing on Mona and Neal.”

Jed nodded.

May sat back down and buried her head in her arms. “I can’t stand it. Mom’s dead, Minnie’s sick with who-knows-what, and Mona’s missing. What’s going on?”

Skye patted her mom’s hand. “Maybe Minnie is finally getting some help for those spells she gets.” For a long time Skye had thought Minnie’s spells were probably a form of a depressive disorder such as dysthymia. Not that the family had listened to her gentle hints that Minnie should see a psychiatrist for an evaluation.

“How about Mona and Dante?”

Skye rubbed May’s back. “I’m sure they’re all fine.”

Hearing her own words, she frowned. Where have I heard that before?

CHAPTER 3

A Diller, a Dollar, See How They Holler

Skye was in the bathroom talking to Simon on the phone. She had stretched the cord as far as it would go in order to talk in private. “Simon, you can’t call it natural causes. Grandma may have been old but she wasn’t sick. What did Doc Zello say?”

“Doc Zello isn’t happy with that cause of death either, but he can’t give me an alternative, and considering her age and your family’s reputation in the community, he’ll sign off.”

Sitting on the closed lid of the toilet, Skye gripped the receiver. “No, it isn’t right. If Doc has doubts and I have doubts, then we should have an autopsy done.”

“But why? Surely you don’t suspect that someone murdered your grandma.”

“I don’t want to think so, but I do want to know for sure what happened.” Skye paused and petted Bingo, who had insisted on following her into the bathroom. “Simon, there’s a lot that doesn’t feel right. I told Wally earlier all the things that were weird about the situation.”

“What do you mean? Wally didn’t mention anything.”

Skye took a deep breath. She knew Wally had ignored what she said. “First, the cat was outside. He is never, ever allowed outdoors because he is declawed and has no way to defend himself. Second, the housekeeper is missing. No note, nothing. Third, when I found Grandma she was all tucked into bed. The covers were pulled over her face. She wouldn’t have done that herself. She was claustrophobic. And, I know this last one is lame, but between the time I pulled in and the time I called you, someone was in the garage and left the door ajar.”

When she finished, the only sound from Simon’s side of the line was static. Finally he said, “Okay, I’ll talk to Chief Boyd and Doc Zello, but don’t let your imagination run wild. I’ll come out to your grandmother’s after I finish up tonight.”

Minnie’s husband, Emmett Overby, and their identical twin daughters arrived around nine. Ginger Allen and Gillian Tubb were twenty-nine, with big blue eyes and baby-fine blond hair. Emmett, at fifty-two, looked like the farmer from Grant Wood’s famous painting, American Gothic.

Sinking into the remaining kitchen chair, Emmett took off his cap and ran his fingers through his graying hair. “I couldn’t get ahold of Minnie. The motel she’s at says she’s not in her room.”

May glanced sideways at Ginger and Gillian. “Why is she down there, Emmett? What’s wrong with her?”

He looked at his hands dangling between his legs. “Woman trouble.”

“Oh? Why’d she go all by herself?” May swept cracker crumbs into a pile.

Tugging at the neck of his T-shirt, Emmett refused to look up. “Says it’s private.”

“What do you girls know about this?” May turned to the twins.

Both answered, “Nothing, Aunt May.”

May narrowed her eyes until Ginger continued, “Mom’s been having some problems with the change.” She turned red as she caught Vince’s eye.

Gillian claimed a stool next to the wall near the telephone. This left Ginger to drag a chair in from the dining room.

Gillian eyed the food spread across the tabletop. “I see you all have been making yourselves at home.” She turned to Skye. “Next thing we know you’ll be clearing out the closets. I hope you realize this is not a case of first come, first served. My mom has just as much claim on Grandma’s property as yours does.”

Skye had been silent, mulling over the inconsistencies leading to her grandmother’s death, but Ginger’s comment penetrated her fog. “Ginger, let me ask you a question. When the Lion King was killed trying to save his son, did you find that a sad moment . . . at all?”

Vince let out a bark of laughter, but bit it off before it could grow. Jed’s lip curled slightly. May shot Skye a mother-look that silenced her, at least temporarily.

Expressions of confusion were replaced with those of rage as Ginger and Gillian began to understand what Skye had said.

Gillian spoke up. “That was entirely uncalled for. How could you be so cruel? After all, we’re still reeling from Grandma’s passing.” A sob broke her voice. “Unlike your family, we just found out about it a little while ago.” She paused for breath. “Speaking of that, why did it take you so long to let us know?”

May got up and started to put the food away. “We were trying to reach the aunts and uncles, so they could tell their own children.”

“But, of course, Vince and Skye were an exception,” Gillian said flatly, her tears miraculously disappearing.

“Look, it’s hardly a privilege to be the one who finds poor Grandma dead. And if you can’t see why I would contact my family before yours, then I don’t have any way of explaining it.” Skye got up to help her mother clear the table.

“You always have an answer, don’t you? But the true story is you’ve always been jealous of Ginger and me. We’re prettier, we were co-prom queens, and we’re married. You just can’t stand that.” Gillian crossed her arms and sneered at Skye.

“Why, you little—”

“Skye!” May said sharply.

Sitting back, Gillian smiled nastily. “I know when I’ve said enough.”

“Obviously not,” Skye muttered. She shouldn’t have said that. Why did she let the twins push her buttons? Maybe she was a little jealous, which was silly. They weren’t six years old anymore and they hadn’t just been given a better doll than she had for Christmas.

Gillian opened her mouth, but Vince was quicker. “Uncle Emmett, when do you expect Aunt Minnie home?”

Emmett scratched his head. “She was supposed to have some more tests in the morning, then drive home. Planned on being back by supper time.”

“Did you leave her a message at the motel?” May asked from the sink.

“Told her to call here, no matter what time she got back.”

May shut off the faucet and stuck the first glass in the soapy water. “I had Vince put a note on Mona and Neal’s door, saying pretty much the same thing. Hugo’s going to bring his folks over here soon as they get home. Guess we’re stuck here for a while. Let’s try not to fight anymore.”

No one had said anything for the last fifteen minutes. Both Jed and Emmett were dozing in their chairs, but the noise of the back door slamming woke them.

Dante Leofanti rushed up the steps, trailed by his wife, Olive, and son, Hugo. Skye watched her uncle push his way into the center of attention. He was less than five-six with all his weight in his chest and stomach. When she was a little girl, she’d loved to listen to his stories. But as she grew older, she and her uncle had grown apart. It was sad that now they seemed to have nothing in common, couldn’t sustain a conversation past the topics of health and weather.

He reached for May and enveloped her in a hug. “You poor thing. Having to handle this all by yourself.”

Skye glanced at the room full of people and wondered, What are we, weeds in his cornfield?

He smoothed back his thick gray hair and spotted Skye. “You poor angel. How sad to be the one to find your grandma like that. Too bad it couldn’t have been one of the boys. You know Hugo stopped by almost every day.”

Skye stifled a grimace. Uncle Dante was already rewriting history. Hugo only visited his grandmother on holidays and birthdays, and then for such short periods of time he rarely sat down. But she didn’t say anything. Maybe this was the only way Dante could handle his grief.

Hugo had been fortunate. He carried his forty years well, and had gotten the better physical traits of both his parents. His mother’s side allowed him to be of average height, five-ten, and his father had provided thick black hair. He had the Leofanti green eyes but something was missing in his. Maybe it was openness. He was good at keeping his thoughts to himself, an advantage in his job as a car salesman.

After getting chairs for his mother and father, he stood behind Olive with his hands on her shoulders. It was hard to tell whether the gesture was one of comfort or control.

Olive always seemed uneasy among the Leofantis. She was from Chicago, and although she and Dante had been married for thirty-nine years, she still acted like someone who was just visiting from the city.

Skye noticed that she was pleating the hem of her pink floral dress. She seemed to feel Skye’s glance and reached up to pat her short blond hair, though every strand was already in place.

Skye smiled at Olive. “Pretty dress.”

Olive seemed flustered. “Thanks. I’ve had it for years.”

“Hugo told us what happened, but I’m confused about a few things.” Dante looked from May to Skye.

“Oh?” May had been handling her brother’s chauvinistic manner for years.

When it was clear May wasn’t going to go on, Dante elaborated. “Why did Skye call the coroner?”

Skye couldn’t tell which of her cousins, either Ginger or Gillian, whispered, “She probably just wanted an excuse to call her boyfriend. I hear he hasn’t been coming around lately.”

Tamping down her irritation, Skye faced her uncle. “Who would you suggest I should have called instead?”

“Your mother, your aunts, me.” Dante’s smile didn’t reach his eyes.

Crossing her arms, Skye leaned back. “I didn’t want to tell Mom over the phone that her mother was dead.”

“How about me or your aunts?” Dante leaned his chair back on two legs.

Skye considered her answer briefly. The truth was she didn’t want to deal with her aunts and uncle, but she couldn’t say that so she resorted to the near truth. “I didn’t think about it.”

Dante thumped his chair onto the floor. “Well, young lady, I don’t believe that for a minute. What’s the real reason?”

May gripped Skye’s arm and Vince shook his head wildly. Skye smiled. “Uncle Dante, you really, really don’t want to go down that road. Let’s just say the family and I usually think in opposite ways.”

“Fine, we’ll let that go for now. But I still don’t understand what’s going on. Where is Mom right now?” Dante looked around as if he thought they had hidden the corpse in one of the cupboards.

Skye answered. “Because she died alone and without any documented health problems, they have to treat it as a suspicious death. They’re waiting for Doc Zello to rule on the cause.”

“Well, why haven’t we heard anything yet?” Dante asked.

“I talked to Simon a little bit ago. He said he’d come out as soon as Doc Zello makes a determination,” Skye answered, trying hard to keep her voice even and not reveal the true contents of her conversation with Simon. “And I believe there was a wake tonight from seven to nine.” Before anyone could ask who, she added, “I think it was for old Mrs. Doratto.”

Gillian piped up, “Well, I hope Simon doesn’t think we’re going to use the Reid Funeral Home for Grandma’s funeral just because he already has the body.”

Vince shook his head. “Gillian, you are just like a politician raising taxes. You don’t know when to stop and you always go too far.”

It was a little past ten when Mona and Neal O’Brian finally arrived. They had been at a dinner at the Knights of Columbus. The KC prided themselves on being defenders of their faith. As Grand Knight, Neal was the head of the local council.

Mona, dressed in an expensive beige pantsuit, carried a quilted Chanel handbag. She was the youngest of Antonia’s children, only forty-eight, and looked nothing like her sisters or brother. Every ash-blond hair was sprayed into a chignon that did not move even in high winds.

Tall and physically fit, the O’Brians had an air of money and elegance. Skye always imagined them in tennis whites on the court at the country club.

Mona scanned the crowded kitchen with her pale blue eyes, stopping on May, who was talking on the phone. May covered the receiver and mouthed, “Minnie.”

Mona nodded, then looked pointedly at Vince.

Vince leapt up and offered her his chair. She sat carefully, smoothing her trousers and making sure the creases were not undone.

Neal raised an eyebrow at Mona. “Where am I suppose to sit?”

A look of uneasiness crossed her face. She popped up from her seat and hurried to the dining room, returning with another chair that she wedged next to hers. Neal sat, his bright red hair a contrast to all the blonds and brunettes gathered at the table.

Vince remained standing. He leaned against the counter and crossed his arms.

They were all silent, listening to May say into the phone, “Okay, okay, don’t cry. I still don’t understand why you went down there alone.” She started to sob. “Yes, I would too have taken off work to go with you or one of the twins could have found a baby-sitter.” She paused. “Well, Mona doesn’t even have a job or kids.”

All eyes turned to Mona, whose frozen expression did not change.

May continued to weep. “I’ve got to go, Mona just got here. What time will you be back tomorrow? Okay, see you then. Bye.”

Looking around the table, May explained, “Minnie felt guilty that she didn’t stop over to see Mom today before leaving for Urbana.” May blew her nose on the tissue Skye handed her, and continued almost to herself, “Minnie checked in every morning. She must have really been upset not to stop today.”

Mona dabbed at her eyes and stole a peek at Neal. “I missed coming over today, too.”

Shaking her head, May made her way back to her chair. “I’m sure Mom understood.” After she was seated, she asked, “Where were you this afternoon? I thought for a minute you had gone back to Maui.”

“I had a dentist appointment in Joliet, so I decided to go early and do some shopping. When Neal finished in the field, a friend dropped him at the Knights of Columbus hall.” Mona inspected a perfectly manicured nail. “You know, not to criticize, but a note on your front door saying your mother died is not the best way to hear the news.”

“They stopped poor Daddy in the field and told him by the side of the road,” Gillian said.

“I guess it’s a good thing it wasn’t his mother then,” Mona replied.

Skye felt a guilty pleasure in her aunt’s response to her cousin, although she experienced a twinge of unease, reminding her that she had been on the wrong side of Mona’s tongue many times herself.

Ginger whispered into Gillian’s ear but neither twin spoke to the group.

Folding her hands on the table, Mona looked toward May. “So, tell me all about it.”

May started, “Well, Skye has been stopping by every day after school. Mom’s been telling her the family history, but today . . .”

As May finished retelling the events of the day, Mona wiped away a teardrop, sat back, and stared at Skye. “We really can’t trust you to do anything right, can we?”

“What?” Skye frowned.

“Most people find their eighty-year-old grandmother dead, say a prayer of thanks that she’s out of her misery, and call the family doctor. But not Miss Big Shot. Like Neal says, it’s not healthy the way you always have your nose in a book. You want to live like they do inside the pages of your latest novel. So you involve the police and the coroner and God knows who else. Now instead of a quiet funeral, we’ve got a situation. You’re just never happy unless it’s your way. And look what you’ve gotten us into.” Mona finished without raising her voice. “I’ll bet you didn’t even call Father Burns. It’s a good thing I had him out here Sunday to give Mom and the housekeeper confession and communion.”

The silence around the table was broken only by the scraping back of Skye’s chair as she stood. She walked to the sink and ran cold water as she took a glass from the cabinet. Bingo wandered in and sat at her feet.

After her drink, she turned to the room full of staring faces. “Well, it sure is enlightening to hear what you truly think of me, Mona. I’d share my insights about you, but it would upset my mother and she’s already been through enough today. But, be warned, if you ever speak to me like that again I won’t restrain myself. Understand?”

Vince came over and stood beside Skye.

Mona’s features stiffened and she opened her mouth.

Before she could speak Neal said, “Drop it, Mona.”

“But, Neal.” Her voice sounded whiny and a drop of sweat ran down her temple. “It’s pretty bad when a person is threatened by her own niece on the day her mother dies.”

Neal put his hand on her wrist, his fingers digging into the soft skin. “I said, drop it.”

Skye looked at the people around the table and saw no sympathy for her aunt.

Mona’s tone changed. “Darling, this has all been too much for me. I’m feeling faint. Could I have a drink?”

Neal got up and went to the sink. He filled a glass of water and put it in front of Mona. When Mona didn’t immediately reach for it, he asked, “What’s wrong, sweetheart? Not the kind of drink you had in mind?”

Conversation died after Mona’s outburst, lethargy seeming to take over. The sound of a car door slamming made them all look up. Knocking on the door startled them. No one ever knocked at Grandma’s.

When everyone remained seated, Skye shrugged and went down the steps to see who was there. It was a little after ten-thirty at night, not a time many people in Scumble River came calling.

Simon was standing on the concrete apron, dressed in a black suit and white shirt. His expression was grim. “May I come in?”

“You might want to reconsider that request. The situation hasn’t brought out the best in the family.”

“Then they’re really not going to like what I have to say. Let’s get it over with.”

Skye tried to question him, but he insisted on speaking to everyone at once. They walked into the kitchen together, but Simon stayed at the door and Skye rejoined Vince by the sink.

Simon cleared his throat. His gaze swept the room. “First, let me say I’m sorry for your loss. I was fortunate to get to know Antonia when Skye brought me out to visit, and she was a special lady who will be missed by everyone. Sadly, it is my conclusion, as coroner consulting with Doctor Zello, her personal physician, that she did not die of natural causes.”

As Simon spoke, the twins started to cry, a twitch appeared near Dante’s eye, and Hugo blew his nose. But upon hearing Simon’s last sentence, everyone froze.

Finally, Dante pushed his way over to Simon. Thumping his index finger into Simon’s chest, he shouted, “What are you talking about? If this is some sick joke . . .”

Simon pushed Dante’s finger aside and went on as if he hadn’t been interrupted. “We found some irregularities when we examined her. This means we will have to perform an autopsy. I will take care of that as soon as possible and let you know when you can make funeral arrangements.”

A stunned silence followed until May asked, “By not dying of natural causes, do you mean . . . ?”

Simon nodded. “We suspect she was murdered.”

CHAPTER 4

One, Two, What Should We Do?

Suddenly voices bounced off the walls and filled the small room. Dante’s was the loudest: “What is the meaning of this? You can’t go cutting up someone just to prove you’re a big shot to your girlfriend.” He flung a look at Skye. “Skye, tell him you don’t want your grandmother to have to go through this.”

Skye considered her response. Simon would understand if she didn’t admit that it was her idea in the first place. And Wally and Doc Zello would never tell. But she believed an autopsy was necessary, and it would be spineless not to say so.

Everyone was looking at her, waiting. Vince moved closer.

“I’m sorry, Uncle Dante. I can’t ask Simon not to do an autopsy because I’m the one who talked him into it.”

The roar of voices was deafening, and this time May’s rose above the rest. “Oh, Skye, why?”

Looking at her mother’s face, which seemed to have aged ten years since that morning, Skye was torn. Maybe she should have just let things be. Why did she always seem to be the one stirring the pot?

She had taken too long to answer and now others were shouting questions.

Skye pushed off from the sink and stood straight. “Because when I got here—”

Simon broke in. “Skye, I don’t think you should discuss what you saw. I’m sure the chief would not want that information disseminated.”

The room began to buzz again. Skye heard various bits but couldn’t tell who said them.

“What do you think she saw?”

“Anyone know where Mrs. J is?”

“She’s probably making this whole thing up.”

Most of the babbling stopped at the sound of the door slamming. The appearance of Chief Boyd at the top of the stairs silenced the rest. He looked at Simon, who nodded.

“You all have my sympathies for your loss. I’m sorry that circumstances aren’t different, but I’m sure you all want to know if Antonia was murdered, and if so by whom. The only one who would gain by the termination of this investigation would be the killer.”

When Chief Boyd finished speaking, Skye noticed that the atmosphere in the room began to change. Now her aunts, uncles, and cousins were eyeing each other, perhaps wondering who had been loudest in their objections. Chairs shifted slightly and they appeared to withdraw into themselves.

Chief Boyd allowed them to digest what he had said a little longer, then went on. “We have put an all points bulletin out on the housekeeper. Now, you can all understand when I ask you to leave this house immediately. We will need to keep it secured until we know if it is a crime scene or not, so please do not return without my permission. Also, anyone who went into any room besides the kitchen tonight, please stay behind for a few minutes.”

Some grumbled, but everyone started to gather their belongings and move toward the door. As they formed a natural line, Wally stopped each one of them and asked them to come into the police station the next day to make a statement.

Mona, Ginger, and Hugo admitted to taking a chair from the dining room, but stated they’d gone no farther into the house.

Everyone else had left by the time the Denisons reached the front of the line. Jed, Vince, and May had been through the entire house except the bedrooms. Skye, of course, had been everywhere.

When he heard this, Chief Boyd shook his head. “Okay, well, Skye, I guess that means first thing tomorrow we fingerprint you.”

“Great. When’s first thing to you guys?”

“How about eight?” He didn’t look up from the notes he was taking.

“How about nine?” Skye wasn’t a morning person, and since she’d be taking a personal day due to her grandmother’s death, it would be nice to sleep in a little. She felt tired to the bone.

“Eight. Don’t push it.” He slapped the notebook shut. “Come on, folks, it’s time to leave.” He shepherded them all down the stairs.

After they all shuffled outside, May fetched the hidden key and handed it to the chief, who turned it in the lock. He then went to his car and took a roll of barricade tape out of the trunk. Tearing off a couple of strips, he put them in an X across the front and back doors.

They walked toward their vehicles, everyone having driven separately. Simon accompanied Skye to her car, which was parked in a dark corner beside the garage. As they reached it she noticed that something didn’t look right.

Simon put his hand on her elbow. “I’m surprised your grandmother didn’t have a yard light. Almost everyone in the country does.”

“She does.” Frowning, Skye looked up and pointed. “It must be burnt out.”

“Can you see to unlock your door?”

“It’s not locked. I never lock my door when I’m on the farm.”

“Why? Don’t you think criminals can drive on a gravel road?”

“No, smarty. It’s a habit. On a farm, machinery is always being moved in and out and they have to be able to move the cars to get around.”

“So, you leave the keys in too?”

“Yeah, most of the time.”

“That is really dumb in this day and age.”

“Look, things are different on a farm. I know it doesn’t seem like it now, but usually . . . It’s hard to explain to a city boy. Can we do this a different time? Say anytime except right after my grandmother’s been murdered.” Skye felt tears pushing to overflow but forced them back.

“Fine.”

Her eyes had adjusted to the dark as they stood talking, and what she saw made her gasp.

Simon grabbed her arm. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh my God. My tires.” Skye pointed to the four flats on her car.

“Shit.” Simon walked around the vehicle.

“They couldn’t all go flat at the same time.” Skye moved closer, trying to get a better look.

“No, they couldn’t. Someone slashed them on purpose.”

Skye leaned her head on the leather seat back of Simon’s Lexus. The chief had told Skye he would dust the Buick for prints immediately, but she could wait and fill out a vandalism report when she came in to the police station the following morning. Jed had insisted he would get the tires fixed first thing the next day. Skye hadn’t been able to convince her father that she was capable of arranging for her tires to be replaced herself. And she was too tired to argue for long.

The country roads were dark and Skye almost dozed until Simon stopped for the traffic signal at Maryland and Basin Streets. She shook her head; the only stoplight in town and she always managed to find it on red.

Basin Street, Scumble River’s main thoroughfare, consisted of a six-block area that housed most of the town’s smaller businesses, including the bank and the dry cleaner. Larger establishments, such as the supermarket and hardware store, had moved to the outskirts about ten years earlier in search of parking.

As the Lexus turned onto Stebler, the streetlights became fewer and fewer until they disappeared completely by the time Simon pulled into Skye’s street. She rented a small river cottage from a divorced couple who couldn’t decide who should get ownership. The cottage was ideal for Skye, and she hoped the couple wouldn’t settle their differences until she was able to save some money, find another job, and make her escape from Scumble River.

Simon parked in her driveway and turned to Skye. “Would you like me to come in?”

She frowned, misunderstanding his intent. “I’m really tired and just want to go to sleep.”

He raised an eyebrow. “That’s fine, but wouldn’t you feel better, after all that’s happened, if I made sure the place is safe?”

Skye began to slide out of the car. “Oh, well thanks, but I can take care of myself.”

Simon followed her, watching as she tried unsuccessfully to fit the key in the lock. “Look, your tires were slashed and you’re the one ruffling everyone’s feathers about your grandmother’s death. Don’t you think there might be a connection?”

“Okay, you’re probably right. I’m too tired to think straight.”

The door finally opened and Skye trudged wearily inside. On her way into the great room that acted as her living and dining areas, she threw her purse on a table.

She watched Simon scan the room. It was half of the large octagon shape that made up the cottage. The outer arc was comprised of windows and sliding glass doors that faced the river. He made sure they were all locked, with bars across their tracks, before moving on. Skye trailed behind him.

The bedroom was a quarter of the octagon and also had a set of sliding glass doors with windows on either side looking over the water. He secured these and checked out the closet and bathroom.

The only remaining space was the small kitchen/utility area that looked out on the driveway, and the half bath off the foyer. Both were empty.

Skye, following Simon, bumped into him when he stopped in the foyer. “Sorry.”

He put his arms around her. “Make sure you turn the dead bolt and put on the chain when I leave.”

Skye nodded mutely, having trouble keeping her eyelids open.

Simon kissed her softly on the lips. “I’ll call you tomorrow after you’ve been to the police station.” He turned and spoke over his shoulder as he went through the door. “Don’t forget you’re supposed to be there at eight.”

Skye locked up behind him, turned, and made her way into the master bathroom. I should take a shower. She stripped off her clothes and stuffed them into the hamper. At least, I should wash my face. Grabbing her nightgown off the hook behind the door, she slipped it over her head. It would take only a second to put on some Fruition lotion. She sank into her pillows. Esteé Lauder would be so disappointed in me . . .

Her alarm buzzed at six, its usual time. Skye reached out and slapped it off. A few seconds later she forced herself out of bed and grabbed the telephone. After letting the schools know she wouldn’t be in due to a death in the family, she crawled back between the sheets.

The next time she awoke, the numbers on her clock radio glowed seven-thirty. She leaped out of bed and into the shower, stripping off her nightgown on the way. The hot water revived her and she soaped, shampooed, and rinsed quickly.

After toweling her body and hair, she threw on underclothes then stood at her closet, stymied. What should she wear to be fingerprinted, taking into account it was the day after her grandmother died and it was going to be hotter than heck out?

As she contemplated her inadequate wardrobe, her glance fell on the clock. Damn, she was going to be late and she still hadn’t done her hair or put on any makeup.

Skye dialed the nonemergency number for the police. She had it memorized since she often called her mother when May was working at the station.

Thea Jones, another of Scumble River’s dispatchers, answered. At the sound of Skye’s voice she said, “Oh, honey, I’m so sorry for your family. You know, we all love May. She’s gonna take it real hard. She was real close to her mama.”

“Thanks, Thea. Could you let Chief Boyd know I’m going to be a little late? He wanted me there at eight, but it doesn’t look like I’m going to make it until eight-thirty or quarter to nine.” Skye stretched the cord and grabbed a black-and-white gingham skort outfit from her closet.

“Sure, honey. You take your time. That man ain’t got nothin’ else to do anyways.”

The doorbell rang as Skye hung up the phone. She grabbed her robe and fought her way into it as she ran to the foyer. May’s face was framed in the side window.

Skye released all the locks and ushered her mother inside. “Hi, what are you doing here so early?” As soon as the words passed her lips, she knew it was the wrong thing to say.

“Early? You call five to eight early? We’ve got to do something about those slovenly habits you picked up in New Orleans.”

Skye edged back toward her bedroom. “Okay, okay. What’s up?”

“I came to drive you to the police station. Your dad’s still working on the tires.” May followed closely on Skye’s heels. “What are you wearing?” May was dressed impeccably in navy cotton slacks and a white blouse.

Skye held up the ensemble she had picked out.

May puckered her mouth. “You know, honey, since you’ve gained weight, do you really think you should wear things that are sleeveless and above the knee?”

Skye frowned. About eighteen months ago she had decided to exit from the diet roller coaster. At first she had gained quite a bit of weight, but then she’d reached her setpoint. She exercised regularly and now felt comfortable with who she was.

Ignoring her mother, Skye took the outfit and walked into the bathroom. When she emerged twenty minutes later, she was wearing her original choice, had styled her hair in a French braid, and wore her usual makeup.

May didn’t comment.

Thea grabbed May in a hug as soon as Skye and her mother entered the police station, then drew May behind the counter, sat her down, and began to converse in low tones. Skye was left to find Chief Boyd on her own.

Obviously, Tuesdays were slow days for criminal activity in Scumble River. The building seemed deserted and so quiet that Skye could hear the rustle of paper as she approached the chief’s office.

He looked up as she entered. “Glad you could finally find time in your busy schedule for us.”

Sighing, Skye sat on one of the visitor chairs. “Sorry. I’m sure you don’t want to hear the litany of excuses any more than I want to go through them.”

Chief Boyd made a note in a file and stuck it in a drawer. “You’re right. I’m in a bad mood today and didn’t mean to take it out on you. Let’s start over.”

She wiggled, trying to get comfortable in the cracked leather seat. “Thanks. How come you’re in a bad mood? I hope it’s not because I insisted on an autopsy for my grandmother.”

“No, personal problems.” His face closed and he lost all expression.

Skye knew he and his wife, Darleen, had been having difficulties with their marriage for the last year or so, but she thought things had gotten better. “I know how tough that can be. Maybe you both should talk to a counselor.”

“Are you volunteering your services as a psychologist?” He raised an eyebrow.

Blushing, Skye shook her head. “No. I’m only qualified to work with children and their parents. But I could give you a name of a very good therapist who specializes in couples.”

He moved around the desk and sat on the edge. His knees were a fraction of an inch from hers. “I thought maybe you couldn’t take the case because you were too close to the people involved.”

Turning a deeper shade of red, Skye tried to find the words to answer him. “Well, ah, that too. After all, I’ve known you since I was a teenager and I work with Darleen.”

She felt herself getting lost in the depth of his brown eyes. It felt as if something were sitting on her chest. Of all the men she knew, why did this one have to be married?

The sound of a throat being cleared in the doorway stopped her before she could speak.

Skye’s eyes darted in that direction, and she met her mother’s worried gaze. She stood up and turned to May. “Mom, we were, ah, filling out the report about my tires.”

May smiled thinly. “Fine. I’ll help.”

Chief Boyd went back behind his desk and pulled out a partially completed form. “So, Skye, give me a list of all the people you’ve recently infuriated.”

CHAPTER 5

There Was a Crooked Man

The phone was ringing as Skye unlocked the door to her cottage later that morning.

She hesitated, figuring it was either more bad news or one of her relatives calling to yell at her about last night.

Tugging Skye’s arm, May pulled them both into the kitchen. “You’d better hurry and answer the phone before they hang up.”

She sighed, and lifted the receiver. After a few minutes of conversation she said good-bye and turned to her mother. “Great. Just what I needed.”

May held up the dishcloth she had been using to wipe out the sink. “What’s up?”

“I have to go into school.”

“Why? Surely you’re entitled to a personal day off.” May looked around and attacked a spot she noticed on the counter.

“They’re sorry for my loss, but they’ve got an irate parent coming in at one, and Neva Llewellyn wants me there.”

“Couldn’t you say no?” May unplugged the toaster and shook it over the trash can in the corner.

“I suppose so, but after what happened at my last job I need to get sterling references from this one or I can kiss my career good-bye.”

May finished emptying the crumbs from the toaster’s trap and started polishing the chrome. “But what happened in your last school was not your fault. You did the right thing.”

Shrugging, Skye pulled out a chair and sat down. “You know I was right, and I know I was right, but if anyone calls that school system, all they’re going to be told is that I was fired for insubordination.”

Both women were silent as May finished with the toaster and plugged it back in. She finally spoke. “It’s only a little after eleven-thirty now. How about if I take you to lunch and then drop you off at school? Dad and I will bring Grandma’s car there as soon as he finishes with it.”

“That sounds good. I’m sorry you guys have to chauffeur me around. As soon as I get my insurance check, I’ll buy a car.” It was tempting just to give in and let her parents take care of her, but there was no way Skye could stay in Scumble River if she didn’t keep fighting to remain independent.

May stopped cleaning. “Skye, you know we want to make your life easier. We wouldn’t offer if we didn’t enjoy it. We do the same for Vince.”

Skye nodded. It was a fine line between accepting help she needed and insisting on doing things for herself. “Are you going to call Dad?”

“No, he won’t be near a phone. He’ll either be fixing the Buick or in the fields.” May walked into the tiny bathroom across the foyer from the kitchen.

Skye raised her voice to be heard above the running water. “You guys really need to get a cell phone and an answering machine.”

“We’ve been just fine for thirty-five years without any fancy gadgets. Next thing you know you’ll be wanting us to get a computer like Hugo talked Dante into.” May snorted. “To keep updated farm records, my eye. He just wants to play around on that Sinnernet. I heard down at the police station that pictures of naked women just pop up when you turn the machine on.”

Knowing when to end a conversation was an art Skye had picked up early in dealing with her mother. She wasn’t about to begin to explain the Internet to May, let alone pornographic Web sites. “Okay then, let me freshen up and get my briefcase. Where do you want to go to lunch?”

May and Skye slid into a mauve-colored booth. The Feedbag had recently been redecorated, and was now only ten years behind the times.

They picked up the plastic-coated menus and silently studied the multiple pages. After a few minutes Skye closed hers, but May continued to contemplate the choices.

“What are you having, Mom?”

“I don’t know. There’s too much to pick from.” May flipped the pages frantically and tears started trickling down her cheeks.

Skye plucked the menu from her mom’s hands. “You’ve had a lot to deal with in the last twenty-four hours. You don’t have to carry on as if nothing has happened.”

Her mother’s quiet weeping turned into sobs.

“It’s okay to cry.” Skye scooted around the booth to sit beside May. She put her arms around her mother. “You and Grandma were very close and her death is a shock to all of us.”

After a few minutes, May straightened and took the tissue Skye offered. “I loved her so much. We weren’t just mother and daughter, we were friends.” May wiped away a lingering tear. “It was funny. She was always in total control of everything in the house until Dad came home from work, and then suddenly she turned into a meek little lady. When he was gone she was a tiger—we’d play music real loud and sing, but when he was there we had to be quiet and make sure we didn’t disturb him.” May’s voice faltered. “It was almost as if Mom was afraid of him.”

“I really don’t remember Grandpa,” Skye said. “My earliest memories of Grandma are going to her house to help her bake and hearing about her childhood. She never wanted to talk about her adult past, so I was really surprised when she decided to tell me the family history.”

“When we hired Mrs. J, Mom finally realized she wasn’t immortal. She didn’t want those stories to die with her.”

“But they did. It was too late.” This was a side of May Skye rarely saw and she wanted to keep the conversation going. “You seem to have had a different relationship with Grandma than your siblings did.”

“Ever since Dad died, Dante’s treated Mom like a child. And he’s always whining about having to sell off his land because the housekeeper was so expensive. He wanted us sisters to take eight-hour shifts and get rid of Mrs. J.”

“You’re kidding!” Skye was surprised by the extent of her uncle’s self-centeredness.

“No.” May smiled ruefully. “And Mona and Minnie were always afraid of her.” May smiled sadly. “She was-n’t one to mince words and they don’t like to hear the truth.” She paused and patted Skye’s hand. “You remind me of her. Not afraid to tell it like it is.”

“I thought you didn’t like me to do that.”

May touched Skye’s face. “It’s just that I’m afraid for you. You have such a strong sense of right and wrong that you make a lot of people uncomfortable. And you never know what a nervous person will do.”

Skye glanced at her watch as she hurried into Scumble River Junior High School. It was five after one and she was late.

Just as she was about to knock on the principal’s closed door, Skye remembered. Simon was supposed to come over to her house that afternoon. He’d be ticked if she wasn’t there. She’d better call and hope she caught him before he left.

She turned back to the secretary’s unoccupied desk, snatched up the phone, and dialed Simon’s number. She got his answering machine at his house, his assistant at the funeral home, and his pager; she left messages everywhere.

It was now quarter after and Skye knew Neva would be seething. At first she frowned when no one answered her knock on the principal’s door; then she smiled and sat down. No secretary, no principal, she could easily have been waiting fifteen minutes for someone to tell her where the meeting was.

Ursula Nelson, the school secretary, rushed around the corner and came to a halt when she spotted Skye. “Why aren’t you with Mrs. Llewellyn and Mr. Doozier?”

“Where are they? I’ve been waiting here for quite a while.”

“They’re using the art room. The art teacher is sick today so it’s available.”

“Why aren’t we using Neva’s office?” Skye nodded toward the closed door.

“Mrs. Llewellyn felt it would be unwise to meet with Mr. Doozier in such a confined, windowless space,” Ursula said.

“I guess she really is afraid of him.” Skye picked up her briefcase.

As she headed down the hall, Ursula called out, “I was only gone a few minutes. You couldn’t have been waiting long.”

The small art room smelled of turpentine and glue. Scraps of construction paper were scattered on the faded blue linoleum. The windows were open, but there was no breeze to ruffle the paintings thumbtacked to the bulletin board.

Neva and Hap Doozier sat facing each other across a long table. Neither was speaking. Skye would have recognized Mr. Doozier without Ursula’s warning. He was short and skinny like his brother Earl, although not as densely tattooed.

Skye assessed his mood by his clothing. He appeared to be dressed for a Saturday night date, in tight blue jeans, a belt with a huge silver buckle, and a shiny western-style shirt. As she stepped near the table, the stench of his cologne mixed with the alcohol on his breath was overwhelming.

She extended her hand. “Hello, I’m Ms. Denison, the school psychologist. Sorry I was late, but I didn’t know where this meeting was being held.”

Mr. Doozier looked at her outstretched hand and gingerly gave the three middle fingers a hurried squeeze, releasing them as if they were infectious. “Hap Doozier. My kid’s Cletus.”

Neva started to speak as Skye eased into the molded plastic chair. “Mr. Doozier has been telling me that Cletus is a liar, and we are not to believe any further stories he tells us.”

“Oh?” Skye raised an eyebrow. “I spoke with his teachers yesterday afternoon, and they all felt him to be too impulsive to make a very good liar.”

Frowning, Mr. Doozier leaned forward. “It ain’t no one’s business in this school to go talkin’ about my boy. Not to his teachers, or to no caseworker from the government.”

Skye forced her hands to remain still and looked Mr. Doozier in the eye. “I’m sorry you feel that way. I know you care for your son and want the best for him. That’s what we want too.”

He pounded his fist on the table. “I give the boy everything he needs. He ain’t got no mama or brothers or sisters. It’s just him and me. No one has got a right to tell me how to raise my own kid.”

Speaking in a neutral voice, Skye said in a low tone, “I’m sure you do what you think is best, but maybe we could help you find ways that might work better.”

Mr. Doozier’s face turned red and veins popped out alongside of his neck. “No one tells me how to punish my own flesh and blood. If I think he needs to be whupped, I’ll whup him, and no DCFS bitch is goin’ make me stop.”

Skye glanced nervously at Neva, who sat with her mouth partly open and her expression trancelike. “Mr. Doozier,” Skye said, “I hear you saying that you don’t like people to interfere in your business, right?”

He nodded grudgingly.

“Well, if you continue to hit Cletus, we have no choice but to keep calling the Department of Children and Family Services. They then have no choice but to send a caseworker. If this continues, DCFS will ultimately have no choice but to take Cletus away from you. Is that what you want?”

For a brief moment, Skye was sure she had succeeded in talking some sense into Mr. Doozier, but within seconds he lunged out of his seat, making the chair fly backward. Leaning on the table with both fists, his face a dark shade of crimson, he sputtered, “Ain’t no one doin’ no such thing. Y’all think you’re so smart in your fancy clothes, with your fancy degrees, but Cletus and I can disappear with the snap of my fingers. Then what you and DCFS goin’ do?”

When neither woman answered he seemed to become more enraged. He grabbed one of the chairs and flung it at the window. The glass shattered into a spider web of cracks. “But I ain’t goin’ nowhere, because all you old maid busybodies are goin’ quit stickin’ your noses in my business, or you’re goin’ get hurt worse’n that window.”

Neva and Skye sat in stunned silence for long minutes after Hap Doozier stomped out of the room.

Finally Skye shook her head. “Forget about registering guns, register six-packs. Each can of beer takes you closer to shooting yourself in the foot.”

Neva stood up and smoothed her skirt. “That guy fell out of the stupid tree and hit every branch on the way down.”

They walked down the hall, glancing around nervously as they proceeded through the empty corridor. Both breathed a sigh of relief when they reached Neva’s office.

Neva settled behind her desk and gestured for Skye to take a seat. “Now what?”

“I’m not sure. I think he threatened Cletus so that means another call to DCFS.” Skye dug out a tissue from her briefcase and dabbed at her face. She wasn’t sure if she was sweating because of the heat or the adrenaline. “The tires on my car were slashed last night. I wonder if Mr. Doozier had anything to do with it.”

“Well, there is no question he threatened us. I’m calling the police.” Neva reached for the phone.

Grandma’s Buick was waiting for Skye in the parking lot when she finished talking to Officer Quirk about Hap Doozier. The broken classroom window was a misdemeanor, Quirk had explained, but there was little the police could do about Hap’s threats.

This was not reassuring to Skye as she got into the unlocked car. The keys fell from behind the visor as she pulled it down. Jed’s hiding places were very predictable.

Skye didn’t bother with the radio or air-conditioning, since the drive home would take less than five minutes. When she arrived, Simon was pacing in front of her door. From the look on his face, Skye guessed he had not received any of her messages.

She reluctantly got out of the car. They’d been fighting a lot lately. Her head was pounding and she was soaked in sweat. “Gee, looks like you didn’t get my messages. Sorry. I hope you didn’t have to wait too long.”

Simon, a thunderous expression on his face, stood between her and the house. “That’s it? Everything is supposed to be all right just because you say you’re sorry? Where have you been all afternoon?”

“To hell. Care to join me next time?” Skye brushed past him, unlocked the door, and slipped through, letting it swing shut in his face.

He caught it before it closed and followed her inside.

She stopped on the threshold of her bedroom, turned, and crossed her arms. “Do you mind? I’m going to take a shower.”

Frowning, Simon took a step back and Skye shut the door.

She stood under the showerhead, letting the hot water knead her tense muscles. When her fingers started to wrinkle, she reluctantly turned off the spray and toweled dry. She sat at the bathroom’s built-in dressing table and worked a wide-toothed comb through her tangled curls. I shouldn’t have been so short with Simon. She smoothed lotion over her face and throat. He was just concerned. It was my fault for not getting in touch with him earlier.

After putting on a pair of denim shorts and a plain white T-shirt, Skye hesitantly opened the bedroom door. Simon was gone. She felt a heaviness in her chest. Why had she treated him so badly? Why weren’t they getting along anymore?

Angry at herself, and upset from the last twenty-four hours, Skye put a Pam Tillis CD on the player and lay on the sofa. She fell asleep to the beginning strains of “Mi Vida Loca.”

The doorbell’s persistent ringing woke Skye. She wasn’t sure of the time but it was dark outside.

A shiver ran up her spine. What if it was Hap Doozier or Gus Yoder’s father?

She grabbed her baseball bat and went to the door. Looking through the peephole, all she could see was flowers.

“Who is it?” She raised her voice to be heard through the wood.

“It’s me. Simon.”

Skye unlocked the door and held it open. Simon handed her a vase filled with roses. Their scent was intoxicating and she buried her face in the velvety petals.

While she was appreciating the flowers, Simon had returned to his car. Now he was back, carrying brown bags and a bottle of wine.

He set the packages on the kitchen table, took the vase from Skye’s arms, and placed it on the counter. “I’m sorry I was so abrupt today.” He held her hands and looked into her eyes. “Your relatives have been giving me a hard time about your grandmother’s autopsy. And then after your tires were slashed, when you weren’t here I was worried.”

Skye snuggled into his arms and laid her head on his chest. “It was my fault. Lately I’ve been mean to everyone. I’m sorry. I did try to reach you.”

He stopped her with a finger on her lips. “I know. I finally checked my messages. I had quit listening to them this morning after the fourth time your Uncle Dante beeped me.”

She nodded sympathetically. “When I think about dying, one of the things that really scares me is that I’ll be surrounded by my family in heaven. I’ll be trapped in eternity with people I don’t even want to spend Thanksgiving with.”

Simon smiled and hugged her. “You have a really twisted sense of humor.”

Skye ignored his comment and went on with her train of thought. “My day was horrible, but I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. Can you believe I had to go into school the day after my grandmother died?” She traced his jaw with her finger.

Simon turned his face and captured her finger with his lips.

Skye’s pulse quickened. If I don’t stop now, I may not be able to later, and I’m not ready for this. “Simon, it’s been wonderful dating you these past nine months, and I’m very attracted to you, but I’m just not ready for an intimate relationship.” She paused and looked into his hurt-filled eyes. “It makes things too complicated.”

Simon held her loosely and stroked her hair. “I’m not going to push you. I know after what your ex-fiancé did, you don’t trust men.”

“I really, really want to keep dating you, but I also want to be fair.” Skye could feel a tear etch its way down her cheek.

“Okay, I really, really want to keep dating you, too. But maybe it would be better not to make it an exclusive thing.” Simon wiped her tear away with his finger.

Who was he planning to ask out? Skye pasted a smile in place. “I’m sure that would be for the best. We just won’t take each other’s time for granted anymore.”

“Good.”

With one last hug, she forced herself to slip out of his arms. Her smile was shaky as she pointed to the table. “What’s all this?”

“Chinese takeout. I know how much you like it.”

“But there aren’t any Chinese restaurants in Scumble River.”

“I drove to Kankakee and got it from your favorite place.” Simon smiled.

“Imperial Dragon?” When he nodded, she went over to the bags and sniffed. “Let me guess what you got. Empress chicken, hot and sour soup, crab rangoon, and shrimp fried rice?”

“And a bottle of plum wine.”

“I’ll get the plates and glasses. Then you can tell me what my awful relatives have been doing to you today, and I’ll tell you what the awful citizens of Scumble River have been doing to me.”

CHAPTER 6

Pussy Cat, Pussy Cat, What Have You Seen?

Bingo! She had forgotten all about Bingo. Skye slammed down her cup of Earl Grey tea. Her grandmother’s cat had been locked up alone with no fresh food or water since Monday night, and here it was already Wednesday morning.

She grabbed the phone and dialed her mother, who answered on the first ring. “Mom, did anyone take Bingo home with them?”

“Good morning to you too. And, no, I don’t think anyone took the cat. Why?” May was not an animal lover, and had made it clear throughout Skye’s life that four-legged creatures belonged in the barn or pasture, not in the house.

Gritting her teeth, Skye asked, “Did anyone go over yesterday to feed him and clean his litter box?” She had a difficult time accepting her mother’s attitude toward pets.

“I doubt it. The police have the house sealed, remember?”

“Well, we can’t leave him in there to die of thirst or starvation. I’ll call Wally and see if I can pick up Bingo this morning.” Skye put her mug in the sink and rinsed it out.

“You’re not going to keep that animal, are you? He’ll shed on everything.”

“Technically, he’s property of the estate. Do you know what Grandma’s will says?” Taking the dishcloth, Skye wiped up the table.

“Everything is in a Bypass Trust, so she really didn’t have a will.”

Skye grabbed a pad of paper and a pen from a kitchen drawer. “What’s a Bypass Trust?”

“Grandpa put everything into a trust, so Grandma wouldn’t have to pay inheritance tax when he died. After his death, all income from the estate was paid to Grandma, but the property itself is jointly owned by me, my sisters, and brother.”

Skye sat down and made a note of that on her tablet. “Okay, so you’re saying that Grandma didn’t own the estate anymore, but she received the profits from the farm.”

“Right.”

“But although you guys own the property, it wasn’t worth much to you as long as Grandma was alive.”

“Right.”

Skye tapped the pen on the table. “Then who is the trustee?”

“Your Uncle Dante.”

“Shit.”

“Watch your language, young lady.”

Standing up, Skye moved toward the wall phone. “Could you call Uncle Dante and see if it’s okay for me to pick up Bingo? If not, find out who’s taking care of him and when they’re going to do it. I’ll call Wally and clear things on that end.”

Dante awarded Skye “temporary” custody of the cat, pending a valuation by an expert. He didn’t seem aware that a used cat was a liability, not an asset. Wally had agreed to meet her at her grandmother’s at eight to supervise the removal of the feline and his equipment.

Before leaving for her grandmother’s, Skye called the school to tell them she’d be late. She was scheduled to be at the elementary school in the morning, but had no appointments, so she left a message for the principal that she’d be there around ten.

It felt strange pulling into her grandmother’s driveway after Monday’s events. She steered the car as close to the back door as the concrete apron allowed. Her usual parking spot up by the garage now gave her the creeps. The dilapidated wooden building seemed to exude animosity.

Although it was hot sitting in the closed car, Skye was reluctant to get out or even roll down the windows.

Come on, it must be eighty degrees already, either open the windows or get out. It’s silly to sit in this oven just because you’re scared. Her thoughts were interrupted by Chief Boyd’s squad car pulling up next to hers.

Skye hopped out of the Buick and smoothed the skirt of her denim dress. “Thanks for coming out here, Wally. Sorry to bother you.”

“Glad to be of service. I was going to come out here today anyway. I like to take a look-see before anyone else starts in on a crime scene.”

“You mean no one has even searched the house yet?” Skye tilted her head up and stared at him. “It’s been over thirty-six hours since I found her.”

“We borrow the crime-scene technician from the sheriff’s department and unfortunately, Stanley County has had several serious crimes in the past few days. The First National Bank in Laurel was robbed Monday night and Judge Fitzwater shot his wife on Tuesday. So since we are not absolutely certain your grandmother was murdered, we received a low priority. The tech should finally be over this morning.”

“I see.” Skye’s brows drew together. “It’s not so much whether my grandmother was murdered or not, it’s who’s got the most clout in the area.”

Wally shrugged. “The bank needed to be able to reopen for business and no one wanted to mess up a case involving a judge. That’s how the world works.”

“I know; I just don’t like it.”

“The other thing is, since the body was removed and you and your family wandered all over the house, the scene’s already been compromised. There’s not much hope in finding much in the way of evidence at this point.” Wally took her hand. “Not that we won’t try, but a few hours’ delay just isn’t that important.”

Skye freed her hand and turned away. “Right.” So her grandmother’s murder was low priority. She’d have to do something about that.

Chief Boyd took her elbow as they walked toward the door. He swept away the yellow tape and unlocked the door. “We’ll have to be careful not to disturb anything more.”

Before either of them could react, Bingo rocketed past them and took off across the yard.

The chief started after the cat but Skye stopped him. “Never mind. You’ll never catch him. He’ll come back when he’s ready. In the meantime, let’s get his stuff.”

He led the way as they climbed the steps from the entryway into the kitchen. “Let me gather everything on the table and you take it from there. Probably any evidence that was in the kitchen was destroyed Monday night when your whole family was here, but I’d like to be cautious anyway.”

“Okay, I’ll need his bowls, which are there on the floor. And his food is in the pantry.”

Chief Boyd scooped up the things she pointed out and deposited them on the table. “What else?”

“His litter box is in the bathroom.” Skye fought a grin. “It might be a little smelly after three days, so you’d better dump it outside.”

When the chief returned from that task Skye continued, “Bingo’s carry case is in the closet in the next room.”

Chief Boyd went into the dining room. His face was grim when he returned with the Pet Taxi. “Come with me. Put your hands in your pockets and don’t touch anything.”

Skye frowned. “Why? What’s going on?”

He didn’t answer, just led the way.

Every room had been trashed. Drawers had been pulled out and emptied in the middle of the floor. The contents of the closets had been treated similarly. Even the cushions had been unzipped and the foam removed.

Chief Boyd stopped in the living room, which allowed them to see into almost all the rest of the house. “Was it like this the last time you were here?”

“No. You were here, too. You saw what it looked like when Simon took Grandma’s body away.”

“I just wanted to make sure.”

“Fine, but remember Mom handed you the key and we all left.”

“So how did the intruder get in?” Wally murmured, almost to himself.

Skye ran the layout of the house through her mind. “The basement. There’s a window down there that pops off.”

Wally looked at her questioningly. “What?”

“My grandfather’s family house was destroyed by a tornado when he was a young man. They hid in their basement and fortunately no one was killed. The unlucky thing was that they were trapped for days because all the basement windows were too small and they couldn’t get out.” Skye glanced at Wally to see if he was following her. “So, when they built this house they put in a special safety window. You press on two little tabs on the top and it comes right out. Originally it could only be opened from the inside, but years of wear and tear have made it easy to push in from the outside too.”

He led her back to the kitchen. “Stay here. I’ll check out the basement.”

She heard his footsteps as they ran down the stairs.

A few thuds, a couple of muffled curses, and he was back. “Looks like you were right. There’re some fresh marks in the dust by that window. I’ll make sure it’s examined for prints.” Wally looked around the kitchen. “I wonder why this room wasn’t searched.”

Skye grabbed on to that thought. “So, you think this was a search rather than vandalism. That would prove that Grandma didn’t just die in her sleep, wouldn’t it?”

“Probably. I think the autopsy will confirm it.”

“We’d better get this stuff in the car and find Bingo. I promised I’d be at work at ten.”

After dumping the cat supplies in the trunk of the Buick, they set out to find the feline. He could be hiding almost anywhere. The yard was more than two acres, with the, right half planted in rows of fruit trees.

There was a small front lawn, a long grassy side area, and an untended expanse in the back of the house. The chief took the right part and started searching among the trees. Skye first checked the front and side sections on the left. When there was no sign of Bingo, she unwillingly headed toward the back.

Here, the terrain was uneven and covered with tall weeds. She grimaced at her new cream-colored canvas sandals. There went thirty-eight dollars.

Calling, “Here Bingo, here kitty, kitty,” Skye trekked through the prairie grass, feeling it cut her bare ankles and calves.

Finally, she heard a yowl and spotted the cat just a few yards ahead of her. He was sitting by a round concrete slab with a cast-iron ring embedded in the middle. The cover, which was supposed to be flush to the ground, was slightly ajar.

As Skye approached, an odor stopped her. It was sickeningly sweet and smelled a little like the time her refrigerator broke down when she was gone for the weekend. She forced herself closer and grabbed Bingo, who protested the abrupt treatment by squirming and yowling.

Turning, she ran toward the orchard. “Wally, Wally! Come quick.”

Skye stopped at the Buick and retrieved the cat carrier from the trunk. She shoved Bingo inside and secured the door then continued toward the trees, calling for the chief.

He burst out of the grove with his hand on his gun. “Skye, are you all right?”

She stopped to catch her breath. “I’m fine.” Panting, she explained about the stench.

They retraced her path until they were a few feet from the concrete slab.

“Do you know what this is?” Chief Boyd asked.

“It may be the old well. We were never allowed to play back here because Grandma was always afraid we’d fall into it. I think they covered it when the great-grandchildren were born.”

Nodding, he tried to move the cover with his foot. It wouldn’t budge. “It would probably be easy to move using the metal handle, but until it’s been dusted for fingerprints I don’t want to touch it. Let me see what I’ve got in the squad car that I can lift it with.”

Skye trailed him back to his car, and while the chief got some tools and a big flashlight from the trunk, she fed Bingo. They returned to the well.

The chief inserted a jack handle into the opening. Skye watched the veins pop in his arms as he strained to move the lid. The muscles of his chest rippled under the khaki uniform shirt and his broad shoulders strained against the fabric. Without warning the concrete moved with a loud screech.

Immediately, the odor intensified and Skye backed away. Chief Boyd covered his mouth with a handkerchief and aimed the flashlight beam down the well. “It looks like a body is stuck about nine or ten feet down.” He turned to Skye. “Can you stand to look? Maybe you know who it is.”

She screwed up her face and shook her head, but finally moved closer. Putting her hand over her mouth and nose, she leaned forward and followed the stream of light with her eyes.

Stumbling back, Skye said, “I think it’s Mrs. Jankowski, the missing housekeeper.”

Chief Boyd had told Skye she could leave, but cautioned her not to tell anyone about their discovery. One part of her wanted to stay and see what the evidence people turned up, but mostly she was thankful she wouldn’t have to view the body as it was dragged from the well.

She stopped at her cottage to drop off Bingo and set up his equipment. When she opened his case in the foyer, he poked out a delicate pink nose and sniffed. Satisfied, he stepped all the way into the room and proceeded to investigate his new surroundings.

Meanwhile, Skye filled his food and water bowls, leaving them for him to discover when he reached the kitchen. She tucked his litter box under the sink in the small bathroom off the foyer, and immediately showed him its location.

Bingo instantly used the facilities.

“That’s what I forgot, Bingo, a litter scoop. I better make a list and get to the grocery store sometime today.” Skye walked to the kitchen and took a small pad of paper.

Glancing at her watch, she knew she’d never make it to school by ten and decided to take the rest of the day off since they would dock her for a full day anyway. This time when she called she asked to speak to the principal directly.

“Mrs. Greer, this is Skye Denison. Did you hear my grandmother died on Monday?”

“Yes, dear, I was very sorry. Antonia was a wonderful woman. I used to love sitting in her kitchen and watching her bake. We’d talk about gardening. She always had the best tips and grew the biggest peonies.”

“Oh, I didn’t realize you knew my grandmother.” Skye let her tone rise at the end of the sentence, hoping for an explanation.

“Well, it was over forty years ago, but I dated your Uncle Dante for a time when we were in high school together. He was so handsome and had such a wonderful sense of humor. All the girls were crazy about him.”

Skye didn’t know what to say to that. This was a side of her uncle she hadn’t pictured. What had happened to change him? It had been years since she’d thought of Dante as fun. As the silence lengthened, she knew she needed to say something. “Wow. Small world. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. Anyway, I was planning on coming in today, but some things have come up so I was wondering if it would be all right to take a personal day?”

Mrs. Greer didn’t answer right away. “I’m sorry, Skye, but I booked an appointment with the parents of Perry Underwood for us this afternoon. Is there any way you can make it? These aren’t easy people to deal with, and they would take it as a personal insult if we canceled.”

Careful to keep the sigh out of her voice, Skye said, “What time are they coming in?”

“One-thirty.”

“Okay, I’ll be in around one.”

“Great, I’ll brief you then.” Mrs. Greer sounded relieved.

After hanging up the phone, Skye went out on her deck and sat on a lounge chair. She watched the river go by with Bingo curled up on her lap, purring as she stroked him. Two more days of school and she’d be free.

Her big plans for this summer included lots of reading and lying on the beach.

She couldn’t afford to go anywhere on vacation, but one of the local abandoned strip mining areas had been turned into a recreational club with swimming and boating. It cost five hundred dollars to join and a hundred a year in dues, but her godfather, Charlie Patukas, had given her a membership for her birthday.

Normally, she wouldn’t have accepted such an expensive gift from anyone, but Charlie rarely took no for an answer—especially since he’d inherited a large sum of money last year. He had bought Vince an electric golf cart, May new carpeting, and Jed a satellite dish. He got such a kick out of surprising his “family” with gifts and playing the big shot that he made them feel like ingrates when they tried to turn down his presents.

Skye smiled fondly. Charlie was one of a kind. The soothing motion of the river lulled her and she wasn’t aware of time passing until she was roused by the ringing phone.

Dumping Bingo unceremoniously inside the door, she ran for the kitchen. “Hello?”

“What in the hell is going on at Ma’s now?” It was Uncle Dante.

Skye counted to ten before answering. “Hello, Uncle Dante. Thanks for asking, I’m doing fine.”

“I said you could pick up the damn cat, not tear up the backyard.”

“Uncle Dante, in case you haven’t noticed, I’m talking to you so I can’t be the one tearing up the yard.” She knew logic was a waste of time with him but she always tried it anyway.

“Then I repeat: What is going on?” Dante’s voice was now so loud that Bingo was cowering in the space between the washer and dryer.

“I’m sorry. I’ve been asked not to discuss that with anyone. You need to talk to Chief Boyd.” Her eyes fell on the microwave clock and she was startled to see it was already twelve-forty-five.

“You tell me right now, Missy. I’m trustee of the estate and have a legal right to know what’s going on.” His voice cracked. “What are you doing to my mother now?”

She heard the pain in his voice, but didn’t have an answer. “I truly am sorry. This is not hurting Grandma, honest. She’d want us to find out the truth.”

He jumped on her words. “What have you found?”

“I’m really, really sorry, Uncle Dante, but Chief Boyd ordered me not to talk about it. I don’t want to get in trouble with the police over this. Please call Wally and ask him to explain.”

She let him yell for a moment, then cut back in. “I have to go now. Sorry. The chief will explain. Bye.”

CHAPTER 7

Three, Four, the Cousins Are Sore

Skye pushed open the door of Scumble River Elementary School. The principal, Mrs. Greer, was waiting in the hallway. She was a tiny woman with a puff of white hair, dressed in a soft pink suit. They walked to the office without speaking and closed the door. Mrs. Greer sat in a royal-blue wing chair and indicated that Skye should take its companion.

It was obvious to Skye that Mrs. Greer had spent her own money fixing up her office. The Queen Anne-style desk was mahogany and the cream-colored walls were hung with quality reproductions.

Picking up a file, Mrs. Greer said, “Perry Underwood is a first grader who receives assistance from the special education teacher and the speech therapist. He began receiving services when he was three and attended a special education preschool until this year. He transferred to Scumble River Elementary last fall.”

Skye nodded. “Yes, I’ve observed him in Mrs. Hopkins’ room. He has a language disorder that makes it difficult for him to process what is said to him and almost impossible for him to communicate complex thoughts.”

“Exactly. Have you met his parents?”

“No, the special ed coordinator from the co-op held the intake staffing without me. All I’ve done is review his file and take a look at him in class.”

“Well, supposedly Perry was involved in a dreadful fight yesterday in the hallway on the way to lunch. I had the school nurse look at him, and Abby says there’s not a mark on him.”

Before Skye could reply, there was a knock and Fern Otte, the school secretary, peeked around the door. “The Underwoods are here.”

“Send them in.” Mrs. Greer stood and ushered the couple inside, seating them on the blue-and-cream brocade sofa facing the chairs. “Would you like some coffee, tea, or a soft drink?”

They refused. While Mrs. Greer made introductions, Skye sized up the couple across from her. Mr. Underwood was dressed in fatigues and his brown hair was cut in a military-style crew cut. His wife wore cargo pants tucked into commando boots and an olive drab T-shirt. Both sat at attention.

Mrs. Greer settled back into her chair and tilted her head toward Mr. Underwood. “You asked to see us regarding your son, Perry.”

“Yes,” Mr. Underwood said. “I’ve taught my son to take care of himself, but he was ambushed yesterday by three boys. He managed to defeat them and give them a good thrashing, but I’m concerned about the security in your hallways.”

“I spoke to his teacher. She says the boys weren’t in the hall long enough to have the type of fight you describe. Could Perry be exaggerating?” Mrs. Greer smiled kindly at both parents.

“No.” Mr. Underwood clenched his cap in his hand. “My boy doesn’t lie. Your teacher doesn’t want to admit she’s at fault.”

Fixing him with a steady gaze, Mrs. Greer said, “My teachers don’t lie either.” She let silence prevail before continuing. “Setting that aside for a moment, your son doesn’t have a scratch on him.”

“I told you he’s been taught to take care of himself. It’s the other kids who got hurt, not Perry.” Mr. Underwood puffed out his chest.

“There are no injured students in any of the first-grade classrooms. And none of the children recall anything happening yesterday beyond the regular hallway pushing and shoving.” Mrs. Greer did not yield eye contact.

“Kids stick together.”

“None of the teachers in the surrounding classrooms heard any commotion in the hall.”

“They want to keep their jobs,” Mr. Underwood said. “I know my boy.”

Skye leaned toward the parents. “We’re not saying that Perry lied. Everyone’s perception of reality is slightly different and your son has a severe problem with the usage and comprehension of language, which makes his understanding even more dissimilar than those around him. Maybe this is no more than a misunderstanding.”

“What?” Mr. Underwood frowned.

“Can you recall the exact words Perry used when he told you about the fight?” Skye asked.

The Underwoods looked at each other and shook their heads.

“Think back now. What was his manner like? Excited? Scared?”

Mrs. Underwood spoke for the first time. “At first, I thought he seemed happy.”

“So, could it have been that the three boys included him in their group and the play was a little rough?” Skye held her breath.

Mrs. Underwood started to nod, but her husband shot her a censorious look and she turned it into a cough.

Skye directed her next remark to the woman. “I’m wondering if maybe the speech pathologist, Mrs. Whitney, might be able to help you understand what Perry is saying a little better.”

Mr. Underwood’s face closed. “We don’t need an outsider interpreting for us. We understand Perry good enough.”

“But—” Skye was cut off as the Underwoods rose to their feet.

“I told you it was a conspiracy,” Mr. Underwood hissed into his wife’s ear. “They’ve got the whole incident buried deeper than the real identity of Kennedy’s assassin.”

When the door closed behind them, Skye let out a big sigh. “That felt like an episode of the Twilight Zone.”

Nodding, Mrs. Greer leaned back in her chair. “This is a good example of why you should have all your ducks in a row before meeting with parents. They’re so sure of themselves they can almost convince you that you’re mistaken.”

“You were great. I think handling the parents is the hardest part of the job. It’s so difficult for them to admit that their children could ever be in the wrong.”

“We make a good team. I take them down with facts, and you give them something to go home and think about.”

Reflecting upon the meeting, Skye asked, “Are Mr. and Mrs. Underwood in the military?”

“No. They’re a part of that survivalist group that bought some of that land from the mining company and moved in all the trailers and mobile homes.”

“Oh, the ones up against the back forty of my grandmother’s land.” Skye narrowed her eyes. “She had a lot of trouble with those people—trespassing and hunting near the house. Maybe I should go visit the Underwoods. I’m concerned that they have such a bad opinion of the school.”

Skye was almost safely to her car when her cousins struck. Ginger and Gillian surrounded her and started haranguing her before she could speak.

Ginger was first. “We’re tired of you causing trouble in the family.”

“You always have to be the center of attention, but you’ve gone too far this time.” Gillian poked Skye in the chest with her index finger.

“What are you two talking about?” Skye edged closer to the Buick.

“Oh, no you don’t.” Each twin took an arm and forced Skye to walk with them.

Although Skye had several pounds on each of them, combined they were a force to be reckoned with. Skye’s thoughts were mixed. She didn’t want to create a scene in the school parking lot. All she needed was for it to get around that she was punching it out with her cousins. But this was getting a little scary.

“Where are you taking me?” They didn’t answer. “Look, this isn’t funny.”

When the trio reached Ginger’s van, they shoved Skye into the open back door and Gillian climbed in beside her. After Gillian slammed the sliding panel shut, Ginger walked around to the other side, climbed into the driver’s seat, and started the motor.

Skye tried again. “What’s going on? This is just silly.”

Ginger put the TranSport in gear and squealed out of the parking lot.

“I’m sure we can work this out like civilized human beings.” Skye was losing her initial feeling of annoyance and beginning to get alarmed.

“Relax,” Gillian said. “We just want to talk to you, alone and uninterrupted.”

They drove out of Scumble River, passed Skye’s parents’ place, and seemed to be headed for their grandmother’s farm when Ginger slowed and pulled into a driveway obscured with weeds. It was the old Leofanti homestead that had been destroyed by the tornado.

The twins climbed out of the van and Skye followed, after checking the ignition to see if Ginger had left the keys. She hadn’t.

“Now what?” Skye asked.

“We want to know what’s going on with Grandma,” Gillian said, settling on a concrete block. The foundation and chimney of the old farmhouse were the only reminders that there had ever been a building in that spot.

“The last I heard, Simon ordered an autopsy,” Skye answered. “That takes a few days. After they determine a cause of death they’ll release the body. Then we’ll have the wake and funeral as usual.”

“Grandma died of old age. She was eighty, for heaven’s sake. You’re just making it harder on all of us by refusing to admit that, and making us go through all this mumbo jumbo with the police,” Ginger said.

“You would have never gotten your own way on this if you weren’t dating the coroner. Which, by the way, is pretty pathetic in itself.” Gillian stood and crossed her arms.

“Whether you two like it or not, Grandma was murdered. I’m sorry if it isn’t convenient for you.” Skye turned on Gillian. “And it would be a real good idea to leave my relationship with Simon out of this, or I might be forced to examine your marriage a little closer.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Gillian screeched and started toward Skye.

“Let’s just say I’ve heard things about Irvin that make me think he’s a real prince—only spelled differently.” Skye refused to back down.

Gillian raised her hand and swung at Skye, who grabbed her by the wrist and twisted it to the right. Gillian howled in pain.

“Try not to forget that I’ve had training in takedowns for uncontrollable kids.” Skye stepped back.

Ginger joined her twin. “This isn’t getting us anywhere. Skye, this whole murder investigation not only gets everyone in town talking about us, but it also holds up getting the estate divided.”

“Yeah,” Gillian added, “just because you already have the Leofanti emerald ring doesn’t mean the rest of us wouldn’t like our share. I still think it’s a bunch of crap that the ring goes to the oldest female. We’re only ten months younger than you and we have children to pass it down to.” Gillian’s face was red and her lank blond hair hung in clumps.

“Interesting. Do you both agree that the emerald shouldn’t go to the oldest female?” Skye looked between the twins, then focused on Ginger. “Or does Gillian just think that because her daughter is a few months younger than your daughter?”

Ginger gave her twin a speculative look, but before she could speak Gillian said, “Never mind. Leave Kristin and Iris out of this. The real money is in the land itself. And now because of your interfering, getting everything settled will take forever.”

“So? What’s the rush? The grandchildren won’t get anything anyway. Mom says everything’s in a trust.” Skye looked puzzled.

“Well, maybe your folks don’t need the money, but ours do.” Ginger walked over and leaned on the van.

“Shut up!” Gillian yelled. “Are you stupid? Don’t tell her anything.”

Ginger scowled. “Then we’re back to square one. Why are you so sure Grandma was murdered?”

“I can’t tell you that,” Skye said. “Chief Boyd has asked me not to discuss it.”

“Fine, then on your long walk home you just think about where your loyalties should lie.” Gillian hopped into the front seat of the TranSport.

Ginger climbed into the driver’s seat. Skye hurried to the side panel and was just in time to hear the lock click into place. The vehicle pulled out in a cloud of dust, leaving Skye with her hand still reaching for the handle.

Sighing, she glanced at her canvas sandals. They were already stained from the morning’s excursion through the wilds of Grandma’s backyard and their two-inch wedge heels were not made for hiking.

Skye peered inside her purse for anything that might be helpful, but since she was carrying only a small shoulder bag there was nothing useful. Her gaze swept the fields. Not a soul in sight. She was going to have to walk.

At the end of the driveway she turned onto the main road. Sweat poured from her face as she concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other. Boy, I thought I was in better shape than this. This is pathetic. I bet I haven’t even walked a mile in half an hour.

Her breathing was so loud she didn’t hear the car until it pulled up beside her. The black Mustang convertible gleamed in the sunlight. Trixie Frayne sat in the driver’s seat. “What happened? Need a ride?”

“You’re a lifesaver. I don’t think I could have taken another step.” Skye slid gingerly into the passenger side.

As Skye sagged against the seat, she explained to Trixie about her grandmother’s death and what had happened with the twins.

Trixie whistled. “Those cousins of yours are wild. Remember how they used to trade clothes and try to trick your grandmother when she babysat for them?”

“Yes, they tried that on their teachers too, but Grandma fixed their wagon. After they traded identities one too many times, she grabbed them both and put a big red Magic Marker dot on Gillian’s forehead and a matching black circle on Ginger.” Skye smirked. “It took a week for those marks to wear off. Everybody and his uncle asked them what had happened. By the end, even I felt kind of sorry for them.”

Trixie giggled. “With the way they used to torment you whenever your mothers made the three of you play together, I’m surprised you’d feel any sympathy toward those two.”

“One of my many character flaws,” Skye joked.

“What are you going to do about them kidnapping you?”

“Nothing. What can I do, tell their mommy?” Skye looked disgusted.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. But maybe sometime, someplace you’ll get a chance to get even, and I’d love to be there.” Trixie’s grin was wicked. “Anyway, where can I take you? Home?”

“No, my car’s at school. I hope I’m not keeping you from anything.” Skye examined the blister on her heel.

“Nothing. I was just taking a ride.” Trixie put the Mustang in gear.

“This is a beautiful vehicle. I can see why you’d like driving around.” Skye ran an admiring hand over the upholstery.

“I bought it for my thirtieth birthday. Owen wanted me to get a minivan.”

Both women looked at each other and said, “Men.”

The twins’ little detour had cost Skye a lot of time. It was nearly six o’clock when she turned off the Buick’s ignition and exited the car in front of her cottage. She immediately noticed something was wrong.

Broken glass littered the area around the house. The foyer and kitchen windows were shattered. Circling the house, Skye saw there was not one intact pane left on the building. She started inside, but stopped before crossing the threshold. Seizing Bingo, who had come to the door to greet her, she backed toward her car, checked the backseat for intruders, and slid inside.

After locking the doors, she sat for a moment to catch her breath. Skye was surprised to find herself shaking. Suddenly, the privacy she valued in her home’s secluded location seemed like a threatening isolation. She backed the Buick onto the road and headed toward the police station.

Skye knew her mother wasn’t working and she figured that Chief Boyd would have already left for the day, so she wasn’t sure if she’d know anyone on duty.

The dispatcher was a stranger to her. Skye couldn’t believe the woman was above the twenty-one years of age required for the job. Her name tag read “Crystal.”

Taking a deep breath and smoothing her hair, Skye spoke across the counter. “Hello, my name is Skye Denison and I need to report some vandalism to my home.”

Crystal wrinkled her forehead “Like, okay, ma’am, but the, uhm, officer is out patrolling.”

“Could you radio for him to come in? I’ll wait.” Skye frowned. Ma’am? Do I look like a ma’am? How old does she think I am? I’ll never go to bed without putting on my face lotion again.

“Uhm, well, okay, but it could be a while.” Crystal sat down in front of her console and grimaced.

Skye took a seat in the cracked vinyl bench provided for those who had business with the police.

Only a few minutes had gone by and she was rummaging in her purse for something to eat, having missed lunch and not yet had dinner, when the door was flung open.

Officer Quirk marched past her and leaned across the counter. “Crystal, how many times have you been told not to mention names on the radio?”

Crystal chewed on a nail. “Sorry, I forgot.” Her face darkened. “Like, there are too many rules and things to remember. This is way harder than my last job.”

Quirk seemed to see Skye for the first time. “Her last job was of the fast-food variety,” he said. “She told us it was too much pressure.”

Skye followed Quirk to the back of the station into a room with a table and chairs. “So why did she get hired here? She’s obviously a few fries short of a Happy Meal.”

Quirk grabbed a pen and a clipboard with a pad of forms attached, then sat at the table. “Did you catch her full name?”

Sitting across from him, Skye pursed her lips. “No. What is it?”

“Clapp, Crystal Clapp.”

“That’s awful. So she was hired out of pity?” Skye arched a brow.

“No, she was hired out of self-preservation. Eldon Clapp, our beloved mayor, is her father.” Quirk sat back, his leather utility belt squeaking. “Now what can I do for you, Ms. Denison?”

Skye explained about the windows and reminded him that earlier in the week her tires had been slashed.

“Sounds like you’ve got an enemy. Can you think of anyone who would want to harass you?” Quirk didn’t look up from the form he was filling out.

Her mind flew to the Yoders, Hap Doozier, and the Underwoods before flitting briefly to the twins and her Uncle Dante. She took a deep breath. “Would you like the list alphabetically or divided by family versus workplace?”

CHAPTER 8

Ladybug, Ladybug, Fly Away Home

After finishing with Quirk, Skye called her insurance agent, a cousin on her father’s side. “Kevin, this is Skye. How’re you doing?”

“Fine, fine. Sorry to hear about your grandma.”

“Thanks.” Skye took a deep, calming breath. It was difficult to talk about her. “I’ll really miss her.”

“Yeah, I remember you were close to Antonia. When you were gone for so many years it seemed like, besides your parents and Vince, she was the only one you kept in contact with. I think our mutual grandma was a little jealous.”

“I sent Grandma Denison a postcard every week I was away.” Skye felt guilty she hadn’t been to see that grandmother in a while. “Anyway, the reason I called is business rather than family. The cottage I’m renting was vandalized.”

Kevin’s tone became serious. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine. I wasn’t home at the time. On first glance it looks like they broke all the windows, but I didn’t go inside.”

“Did you report this to the police?” Kevin sounded concerned.

“I’m calling from the station. Officer Quirk is filing the necessary papers and has headed out to investigate. Can you believe he ordered me not to go with him?” Skye frowned at the memory.

“Yes, I can believe it. Especially after your adventure in investigation last fall. Let the police do the job they’re paid to do.” He paused, as if reluctant to ask the next question. “Did you ever get the check for your car?”

“Not yet, and I need it so I can give Grandma’s Buick back to the estate. Isn’t there anything you can do? The company did finally admit my car was totaled.”

“There was some hang-up because technically the damage didn’t occur due to an accident. Still, I thought they had resolved that issue. I’ll check on it tomorrow.” Kevin paused again. “Did I hear that your tires were slashed a couple days ago?”

“Yes.” She answered cautiously, wondering what his question was leading up to.

“Are you going to make a claim?” he asked.

“Shouldn’t I?”

“I wouldn’t recommend it. Your premium has already been raised because of the other incidents. And you’d barely get anything after the deductible. You really need to be more careful.”

“Yeah, right. Like I go around trying to get my property destroyed.” Skye abruptly changed the subject. “So, what’s the drill for my windows?”

Kevin sighed. “Get two estimates. Have the cheapest do the work. Send us the bill and the police report. If everything is in order, we’ll cut you a check.”

“That’s it? Where am I supposed to live while all this is done?”

“You opted for the cheap policy, remember? It doesn’t provide for motel stays or rental cars.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s right.” Skye chewed her lip. “I just didn’t have the extra hundred at the time and I didn’t want to ask my parents for money.” Skye clutched the receiver. “So, that’s it, then. Anyone you can recommend to do the job?”

“We aren’t allowed to make suggestions. All we do is pay the bill. Provided you follow directions.” Kevin sounded uncomfortable.

“I see. So I’m covered with you guys as long as I don’t actually need anything.” Skye hung up the phone.

She looked around the police station. Its walls were painted a gray semigloss. Probably so they would wash down easily. The table where she sat was rectangular with a peeling wood-grained plastic top. Not exactly fancy, but imparting a certain comfort.

Skye was reluctant to make the next call, but she knew it would be better to break the news herself than let the grapevine get first crack at it.

Finally, she raised the receiver and punched in the seven digits that were as familiar as her Social Security number. “Hi, Mom, it’s Skye.”

May was quiet when Skye told her about the windows, distressed when she heard that the farmhouse had been searched, and sobbing when she was told about Mrs. Jankowski. She ordered Skye home immediately.

“But, Mom, I’ve got to go back to the cottage to pick up some clothes and toiletries.” She hesitated. “And, you do realize, I’ll have to bring Bingo with me.”

“Can’t you leave the cat there? It’ll be okay overnight.” The distaste sounded thick in May’s throat.

“There’s glass all over. He could cut himself. It’s either both of us or neither. Maybe it’d be better if I got a cabin at Uncle Charlie’s motor court.”

May sighed. “No. No. I guess you can bring that animal here. Your dad will meet you at your place in fifteen minutes.”

“Dad doesn’t need to come. Quirk is checking it out.”

May went on as if she hadn’t heard Skye. “Don’t go in without him.”

“Look, it’s silly to bother Dad. I’ll be at your house in twenty minutes, tops.”

“Are you trying to give me a heart attack?” May’s voice thickened with tears. “Wait for your father. Just this once, do it my way.”

“Yes, Mom.”

When Skye got back to her car, she found Bingo standing with his front paws on the window ledge, peering into the darkness. Gently moving him over so she could slide in, Skye felt his sides vibrating in happy purrs. As soon as she was settled, he tried to climb onto her lap.

Shifting him to the passenger seat, Skye put the car in gear and drove off.When they arrived at the cottage, Quirk was gone and Jed hadn’t yet shown up.

Skye stroked the cat’s lush black fur and let her thoughts tumble through her mind like clothes in a dryer. She had forgotten to telephone Simon again. When he heard everything that had happened he was going to be ticked that she hadn’t called him for help.

Maybe she could go inside and call him right then, before her father arrived. Skye looked at the door. It was nearly eight and shadows were forming everywhere.

Before she could get out of the car, her father braked his old blue pickup next to her and walked toward the entrance cradling a shotgun. “Stay in back of me.” Jed was not one for idle chitchat.

Skye trailed a few steps behind her dad, feeling like a child. She shouldn’t have waited for him. The police had checked out the house and it was safe. She should be doing this by herself.

Jed held out his hand for the keys. Skye rummaged through the inside zippered section of her purse for the spare set since she had given Officer Quirk the ones she normally carried on her ring. Jed tapped his foot impatiently.

After he opened the door, Jed whispered, “Wait here until I check things out.”

“Officer Quirk was already through the place once,” Skye whispered back. “Let’s just go in, I’ll pack, and we can get out of here.”

“After I take a look.” He gave her a stern look. “Stay.”

Skye was leaning against the railing, thinking that if he spoke to his dog, Chocolate, the way he had just spoken to her, maybe he could finally train the animal. Then she heard gunshots.

Without thinking she rocketed through the door, slamming into her father in the foyer as he charged out of the living room. Both of them stumbled back. Jed sat abruptly on the hall bench and Skye fell sprawled to the wooden floor. Without speaking, Jed struggled to his feet, grabbed Skye by the back of the collar, and dragged her out the door. She felt like a crab walking backwards.

Outside, he continued to pull her behind him, not stopping until they were in his truck with the doors locked.

Skye gasped for breath. “What happened?”

“Saw someone in your front room. Came toward me and I shot ’em.” Jed snatched the mike from his CB and put in a call to the police.

“But I heard more shots. Did they shoot back?” Skye looked anxiously at her father.

“Yup. That’s when I hightailed it out of there.” Jed took a red hanky from his pocket and wiped the sweat off his face.

Only a minute or two passed before Quirk’s squad car squealed into the driveway, lights flashing and siren screaming.

Quirk and a man dressed as a sheriff’s deputy jumped out of the cruiser, conferred briefly with Jed, then approached the cottage. Skye watched them split up, the deputy going toward the back. Quirk peeked into windows and crept around corners.

He finally entered the house after shouting, “Police!”

Moments later, Quirk and the deputy emerged holding something that glinted in the headlights.

“Mr. Denison, I believe this is what you saw.” Quirk motioned to the deputy and they held the object up between them.

It had once been a bouquet of giant Mylar balloons. The brightly colored spheres now dangled, deflated and full of holes, from the small sack of sand designed to keep them from floating to the ceiling.

Skye’s brows met over her nose. “How did that get inside my house?”

Quirk looked uncomfortable. “It was delivered when I was here looking at your window damage. I let the guy put it in the living room. He set the arrangement on the floor since it was so big. The balloons floated about five feet from the ground.”

“The sound of the balloons popping when Dad shot them must have been what we thought was someone returning fire,” Skye offered. The men nodded. “What he thought was a person coming at him was probably the balloons swaying forward in a breeze from the broken windows.”

The deputy rocked on his heels. “Yup. It could have happened that way.”

They stood in silence until Skye said, “I wonder who the balloons were from. Was there a card?”

Shrugging, Quirk rested his hand on his gun. “I didn’t see one.”

“I’ll check with Simon. They were probably from him.” Skye turned to Quirk. “Is it okay to go in now? I need to pack a few things. I’m going to stay with my parents until the windows are fixed.”

The men communed silently. Finally, Quirk spoke. “I think the chief would be less likely to chew my butt off if I escorted you. Try to make it quick, all right?”

Skye readjusted the strap of her canvas briefcase over her shoulder as she climbed the steep steps to the high school’s front entrance. Her head ached from lack of sleep after having stared at the ceiling all night, trying to figure out who hated her enough to slash her tires and break her windows.

She fought waves of nausea and a headache caused by a breakfast too large, a morning too hot, and a firing squad waiting for her behind the glass doors.

May had insisted Skye eat every bite of the many dishes she had prepared. Being accustomed to only tea and toast in the morning, Skye felt as force-fed as a calf about to become veal.

Once again Skye had tried to take a day off by using a personal day, but this time she’d been told the superintendent wanted to see her at nine sharp. A parent had made a complaint against her.

Nervously clearing her throat, Skye made eye contact with the superintendent’s secretary, a tall, voluptuous woman in her late forties with wavy red hair floating over her shoulders. Everyone insisted that she was having an affair with her boss, but no one could prove it.

Skye tried smiling. “Hi, Karolyn. I understand Dr. Wraige wants to see me.”

Karolyn arched a perfectly plucked eyebrow and made a show of flipping the pages in her appointment book. “Yes, I see you’re down for nine.” She looked up at the clock and tsked. “You’re a few minutes early and he’s on the phone.”

Having not been offered a seat, Skye stood off to one side watching the minutes tick by. The outer office was old-fashioned, with dark wood paneling and matching furnishings. The computer terminal on the back wall looked out of place.

She was about to ask to use the adjoining rest room when the phone buzzed and Karolyn rose from her desk. She unlatched the waist-high gate and allowed Skye into the inner office. Knocking once, Karolyn opened the door slightly and stood back.

As soon as Skye squeezed her way through, the door was pulled shut. The superintendent sat in a huge leather chair behind a massive walnut desk. Matching onyx in-box, pencil cup, and blotter were the only items on its smudgeless glass top.

He gestured for Skye to take a seat in one of the wing chairs facing him.

Dr. Wraige laced his fingers across his chest and stared through watery blue eyes. His gray hair, swept back in a pompadour, was the exact shade of his suit and skin. After a few moments of intimidating silence, he spoke. “Miss Denison, we seem to have a little problem.”

“Oh?” Skye knew how to play the waiting game, even if she didn’t enjoy it.

He drummed his fingers on his stomach. “It seems that one of your recent decisions has caused an upset for some parents.”

Her mind raced. Which ones? The Yoders, Mr. Doozier, the Underwoods? I can’t let on there is more than one. “I see. What exactly is the problem?”

“Don’t play coy with me. It’s Mayor Clapp’s son.” The superintendent leaned forward. “He was not happy with the results of your evaluation.”

“Why?” Skye was truly confused.

This had been a strange case all along. Cray Clapp was a senior with good grades and a top five-percent ranking in his class. When Skye had first received the referral, she had turned it down since the boy did not seem to have any characteristics that would suggest a learning disability. His IQ and achievement seemed to match, and if he had any processing problems, they weren’t interfering with his learning.

The high school principal, Homer Knapik, had ordered her to do the assessment regardless. So, she had wasted three hours of her time and the student’s. And as she’d suspected, he’d shown no sign of having a learning disability.

Dr. Wraige squirmed. “Perhaps you’re not aware of Cray’s score on the ACT.”

“No, I can’t say that I am.” Skye looked puzzled. “That’s not the type of testing I do.”

“I’m cognizant of that.” He scowled. “But you do know that to gain admittance to a top university one has to have the grades, the class rank, and a top ACT score.”

“Yes. Last time I checked, a school such as the University of Illinois required anywhere from a twenty-seven to twenty-nine to be accepted by their various colleges.”

“Correct. Cray scored a twenty-four.” Dr. Wraige’s eyes bored into hers.

Skye frowned. “I’m sorry to be so dense, but what does that have to do with me?”

He sat back in his chair and spoke slowly, as if to someone who was not very bright. “If Cray is certified as having a handicapping condition, such as a learning disability, he is allowed certain modifications when taking the ACT. These can include more time, calculators, dictionaries . . . Need I go on?”

“No. I understand.” She sagged. “You want me to lie so the mayor’s son can get a score he doesn’t deserve.”

Dr. Wraige scowled. “That statement was impertinent.”

She didn’t speak.

“Look, you and I both know that psychological testing is not always as precise as we would like to think.” He oozed sincerity. “Isn’t it possible that you could have overlooked something in your evaluation of Cray Clapp?”

Reluctantly, she nodded. “It’s not like a blood test. There is a lot that affects the assessment.”

“Exactly. All I’m asking is that you take another look at your results and see if there’s anything you might have missed.” He opened his drawer and withdrew a sheaf of papers, which he handed to her. “I called Springfield and got this information on students who have both a gifted-level IQ and a learning disability. Maybe they’ll point you in a different direction.”

“How did you get the state to respond so quickly? It takes them months when I request information.” Skye flipped through the pages in her lap.

“Friends in the right places.” He smiled insincerely. “You know. You do me a favor, then I owe you one. It’s how the big boys play.”

CHAPTER 9

Little Boy Blue, Go Blow Your Horn

Skye had worked the rest of the day at the elementary school finishing up odds and ends. Now she sat in her borrowed Buick and considered her life. She couldn’t go to her cottage. She had called around and the fastest anyone would agree to come and fix the windows was in two weeks.

She still hadn’t gotten the insurance check so she couldn’t afford to buy a car. And now it looked like she might lose her job.

The superintendent’s wanting her to change her test results was so similar to the situation that had gotten her fired from her last school that she wondered if she had missed the day in graduate school when the professor told the class it was okay to falsify records if it meant keeping your job. In both cases her superior wanted her to lie in order to appease someone with power and money.

In New Orleans, the coordinator of special education had ordered her to withdraw her allegation of child abuse. Skye had refused to retract her report, even after the little girl was pressured into saying she had made the whole event up.

Could she go through that again? If she got fired this time, she’d never find another job as a school psychologist. Skye’s thoughts grew darker and she sank farther down in the seat, her chin resting on her chest. All those years of education would go down the tubes and she’d be left with nothing but her student loans to repay.

Squealing brakes and a slamming car door roused her from her rumination. Her heart started pounding faster when she heard the slap of leather soles on asphalt. Was someone else coming to harass her? Straightening from her slumped position, she was just in time to see Simon appear outside her windshield. He crossed his arms and looked down at her.

Skye opened the passenger door and motioned him inside.

“Have you been avoiding me?” Simon raised an eyebrow.

“No. My life just sort of got out of hand.”

“That seems to happen to you a lot.” His voice was steely.

She twitched, feeling that their relationship was another aspect of her life that was slipping out of her control. “Shoot. I’ve been meaning to call you.” It was good to see him, although he was clearly irritated with her. Even angry, he always seemed so calm, so together. She had always been attracted to sophisticated men. “Sorry.”

While Skye told him about being kidnapped by her cousins, the new set of crazy parents, and her broken windows, Simon put his arm around her and hugged her wordlessly. She deliberately left out the superintendent’s ultimatum, afraid to hear Simon’s advice.

“You’ve had a tough week.”

“Yes, I have. Before I forget, I wanted to thank you for the balloon bouquet.”

“I didn’t send you balloons. What are talking about?”

She shrugged and explained, concluding with, “I wonder who sent them.” I’ll have to call around and find out.

Simon’s eyes hardened, but he remained silent.

After a few seconds of wallowing in the comfort of his arms, Skye pulled away. Simon was such a take-charge kind of guy that she feared he would take over and “fix” her life if she showed the slightest indication of allowing that to happen. “Everything’s fine now. I was just a little shaken. Sorry to worry you.”

He took her face in his hands and leaned forward until their lips were touching. “When all this is settled, we need to have a serious talk.” He kissed her lightly and sat back.

Skye tried to keep her expression noncommittal as her thoughts raced. I can’t think about that right now.

Simon glanced at his Rolex and reached for the door handle. “Sorry to run off on you, but I’ve got a wake at four, and it takes at least half an hour to get everything set.”

“Sure, I understand. By the way, I’m staying with my parents until my windows are fixed, so call me there. I do plan on being at work tomorrow, since it’s the last day and I hate to miss the awards assembly. One of the kids I see for counseling won the essay contest.” Skye craned her neck to look up at him.

“I forgot to tell you why I was looking for you in the first place.” Simon squatted beside the open doorway, took her hands, and lowered his voice. “We got the results of your grandmother’s autopsy. She was poisoned.” He offered her the snowy white handkerchief from the breast pocket of his gray suit.

Skye waved it off. She wasn’t going to cry, even though she felt a catch in her throat and was saddened that someone had shortened a life that was already starting to wane. After a few moments of silence, she took a deep breath and asked, “How about Grandma’s housekeeper? It was her in the well, right?”

“Yes, it was her. We don’t have results of her autopsy back yet, probably tomorrow.”

“Do you anticipate any other cause of death?”

“No, it was probably the same poison that killed your grandmother.” A line formed between Simon’s brows. “The chief told me to share this information with you, but I can’t say I approve. It’s his investigation; still I don’t think he should be spreading evidence around. It’s hard enough to keep a secret in Scumble River.”

“Maybe the chief realizes that I can help in finding out what happened to my grandmother.” Skye shook off Simon’s hands, remembering how she disliked his arrogance, his belief that he was always right. “And since ninety-nine percent of my job requires confidentiality, Wally probably trusts me enough to know I’ll keep my mouth shut.”

Simon raised an eyebrow. “There was a pan of brownies wedged in the well alongside Mrs. Jankowski. That’s apparently how the poison was administered. And the stomach contents of your grandmother contained brownies.”

“What kind of poison was it?” Skye asked.

“We don’t know yet.”

“I guess it doesn’t matter. Dead is dead.”

May and Jed were sitting on lawn chairs in front of the open garage when Skye drove down the gravel lane. Their house, a red brick ranch, was situated on an acre of lawn that looked like the plush fur of a green stuffed animal. Flowers lined the sidewalks and edged the buildings. Perfectly trimmed evergreens protected three sides of their lot.

A family of plaster deer stood guard near the edge of the drive, and a concrete goose dressed in a graduation cap and gown graced the back steps. Skye shook her head, wishing she could persuade her mother to get rid of the goose, or at least stop dressing it up.

Skye yelled a greeting to her parents as she slid out of the car and headed inside. She showered and changed into blue denim shorts and an orange University of Illinois T-shirt. A quick check showed Bingo asleep on Skye’s bed. Full food and water bowls were on the floor and his litter box was clean. Her mother might not like indoor animals, but she was sure taking good care of this one.

Skye grabbed a can of Diet Coke from the fridge and slid her feet into sandals, then joined her parents outside.

Not surprisingly, May spoke first. “So what was so important that you had to go into work?”

Skye contemplated the issue of confidentiality before speaking. “I’m not sure how much I can tell you. There’s a youngster I evaluated and did not find learning disabled. If he had been diagnosed with an LD handicap he would get certain help in taking the college entrance exams, which would probably raise his scores. His father is pressuring the superintendent to make me change my mind and call him LD.”

“And if you don’t?” May asked.

“Dr. Wraige never said, but I had a feeling I would be fired.” Skye slumped against the side of the garage. Just saying the word made her feel weak.

“I think I’ll invite Charlie to dinner tonight.” May hopped up from her chair.

“That wouldn’t be because he’s president of the school board, would it?”

May shrugged. “Of course not. It’s just been a while since he’s been over and since you’re here, I thought it would be nice for him to get a chance to visit with his goddaughter.”

“Thanks, Mom, but Uncle Charlie has done enough by helping me get this job in the first place. I’ll work this one out on my own.” Skye leaned down to scratch a mosquito bite.

“Okay, but call him if things get rough.” May continued into the house, talking over her shoulder. “I’ve got to check on dinner.”

Jed took a swallow from his can of beer and stared off at the fields. “I hired Warner Post to fix your windows. He said they’ll have it done by Sunday.”

“But I already called around. Everyone told me it would be two weeks before they could even start. I hired someone else.”

Jed crossed his arms. “They’ll be fixed before those other guys get around to it.”

“Dad, you don’t have to do stuff like this. I can take care of it myself.”

“It’s better to hire people we know.”

Skye took her mother’s vacant seat, leaned back, and contemplated the clouds. Finally she said, “Thanks. But from now on let me handle stuff like this myself. I’ll ask for help if I need to.”

Jed adjusted his cap. “I’ll go out tomorrow and make sure they’re working.”

She counted to ten, all the while reminding herself how much her parents loved her. “Thanks, Dad. I’ve got to go into school tomorrow since it’s the last day.” Skye sipped her soda. “I’d better go give Mom a hand with dinner.” Skye headed toward the door.

May was peering into the oven when Skye entered the kitchen. The smell of roasting beef made her mouth water, and reminded her that she had eaten only a few crackers and cheese for lunch.

She leaned against the counter. “Mom, have you spoken to Chief Boyd lately?”

“I’m working midnights this week so he talked to me this morning when he came in at seven. I know Grandma was poisoned.”

“Did he tell you about the pan of brownies?” Skye reached to get plates from the cabinet.

“Yes. He’s going to have everyone in the family back in for questioning.” May’s expression didn’t give away her feelings. “He also said I could go in and clean up the mess from the search.”

“Want me to help?”

“No, I’ll do it tomorrow morning when you’re at school.”

They were silent as Skye set the table and May stirred a pot on the stove.

Skye finally said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to be right.”

May put down the wooden spoon and wrapped her arms around Skye. “It’s okay. Bad as it may be, I want to know who murdered my mother.” She held Skye away from her and looked into her eyes. “But the others probably won’t feel that way.”

“Especially the one who killed her.”

“Maybe it wasn’t one of the family.” May turned back to her cooking.

“Maybe. Do you know anything about those survivalists who were bugging Grandma?” Skye drummed her fingers on the countertop.

“Not really. We’ve had a lot of complaints about them at the police station, but we haven’t been able to catch them in the act or get any evidence against them.” May narrowed her eyes. “Why? Do you think they may have had something to do with Mom’s death?”

“I don’t know, but I’m going to talk to the chief after school tomorrow and make sure he investigates them.”

“I could talk to Wally.”

“No, I need to ask him about other stuff too.” Skye didn’t want to admit that she wanted to find out who in the family had an alibi and who didn’t.

“Just remember he’s a married man,” May muttered.

“For crying out loud. I was fifteen when I had that crush on him. It’s been sixteen years. Give it a rest.”

“I don’t like the way you two look at each other.” May shook her head. “Tell Dad to come in. Supper’s almost ready.”

Skye was more than willing to change the subject. “What are we having?”

“Stuffed round steak, green bean casserole, salad, and corn muffins.” Steam billowed out of the oven door as May removed the roasting pan.

When Skye got back from calling her father, May was ready to slice the meat. She had placed it on a wooden cutting board and held a huge carving knife. Golden stuffing oozed from each portion as she set it aside and went on to the next. The smell of sage mixed with the aroma of roast beef.

While Jed washed up in the half bath off the utility room, Skye set various bowls and platters on the table. May poured iced tea for Skye and herself. Jed brought his can of Miller Lite with him.

After the food was passed to everyone and they had started to eat, Jed said, “Have you been out by the old Leofanti farm lately?”

Skye wondered if Jed had heard about the twins kidnapping her. “Yes, I took a ride out there yesterday. Why?”

“How about you, Ma?” Jed helped himself to another muffin.

“No. Can’t say as I have. Why?” May reached for her glass.

“The Barillos sold ninety acres to a housing developer.” When the women didn’t respond, he elaborated: “It shares an eastern boundary with the Leofanti land.”

“Shit.” Skye set her fork down.

May gave her a stern look. “I won’t have language like that in here, young lady.”

“Sorry, Mom.” Skye took a sip of tea. “Does that mean that whole area has been zoned for housing now?”

“Probably only the Barillo farm, but it makes it a whole lot easier now to get the zoning changed on the neighboring land too.” Jed finished his meal and laid his silver-ware across his empty plate.

May dashed from the table and returned with a lemon meringue pie. She sliced it and slid the wedges onto dessert plates. Adding forks, she passed them to Jed and Skye.

Skye forced herself to take a few bites of the pie, not wanting to hurt May’s feelings, but her appetite was ruined. Ninety acres to a housing developer, at nearly one house per acre, meant more people trying to use roads that weren’t designed for such numbers, more kids in an already crowded school system, and worst of all, less land being used for farming.

After he had eaten his pie, Jed stood and headed toward the back door. He and May had their usual argument as to what part of the leftovers Chocolate, their Labrador retriever, was entitled to consume; then Jed said, “Can you believe a hundred new families moving in almost next door?”

“The last day of school.” Skye felt the magic in those words as she repeated them to herself.

Ten weeks of summer vacation stretched ahead of her without deadlines, meetings, or alarm clocks. Refreshed from her morning swim, she whistled as she sat in her office at the junior high, cleaning out her file cabinet.

The satisfying act of shredding paper was interrupted by the PA. “Ms. Denison, please report to the office, Ms. Denison.”

Sighing, Skye stopped what she was doing and made her way to the front of the building.

Ursula motioned Skye into the principal’s office.

Skye’s heart raced when she found her Aunt Mona sitting across from Neva Llewellyn. “Aunt Mona, did something happen to Mom?”

“No. I’m here on school business.” Her impersonal blue eyes raked Skye.

“Oh.” Skye felt such relief she was almost giddy. She sat next to her aunt and faced the principal. “What’s up?”

Neva shook her head slightly and gestured for Mona to answer.

Mona turned to Skye. “It’s about the ceremony this morning. I’m chairwoman of the awards committee and I’ve just been going over the list of winning students with my delegation. One of the mothers recognized the name of the author of the prize-winning essay, and told me this boy has barely made it through junior high. So I had Ursula run off a copy of his discipline record. There were so many detentions it took the computer ten minutes to print them all up.”

“I see.” Skye searched Neva’s face for a clue as to why she was being involved. Actually, the secretary should not have given her aunt that information without a signed release of records from the child’s parents.

Neva started to answer, “It turns out this boy is someone you see for counseling and we—”

Mona interrupted. “So we’ve decided to go with the second-place entry instead. It is written by a lovely girl who has never caused a moment’s trouble.”

Neva refused to meet Skye’s eyes. “Since the boy was already notified, we thought it might be better if you told him he won’t be getting the award after all. We’re sure you can put it to him gently and make him see it’s for the best.”

“Who are we talking about?” Skye stalled.

“Justin Boward.” Mona’s lips twisted as if she tasted something putrid.

“The eighth-grade English teacher was most impressed with his writing,” Neva added. “Although his topic was somewhat controversial.”

“Exactly. Neal would be appalled if I allowed a pro-choice essay to win a prize. After all, he is the head of the Knights of Columbus.” Mona straightened a pleat in her white silk skirt. “It is inappropriate for someone like this boy to triumph. People would think that we approved of his type of good-for-nothing behavior.”

Skye picked her words carefully, fully intending to maintain the confidentiality of her sessions with Justin. “I’ve worked with Justin all year. He’s a youngster who, although very smart, refuses to put any effort into doing well at school. As you know, he is passing eighth grade by the thinnest of margins.”

“Exactly.” Mona smiled meanly.

“There are a lot of interpersonal and emotional reasons for his behavior, which I can’t share with you, but I’ve made some progress with him. I discovered that he loves to read, as long as it isn’t a class assignment, and that he has a talent for writing. With my encouragement he was motivated to enter the contest.”

Mona said, “A prize like this should go to a serious student who has put forth effort all year. Not someone who rattles off a paper at the last minute.”

“If you take this prize away from him after you’ve already told him he won, you will be reinforcing every negative thing he already believes about authority figures.” Skye looked from her aunt to the principal. “You will undo an entire year’s worth of therapy.”

Mona shrugged and patted Skye on the knee. “Quite frankly, Skye, I don’t much believe that mumbo jumbo. Neal says it’s more like the work of the devil than of Jesus.”

“How can he say that? Even the church offers counseling.” Skye squared her shoulders and clenched the arms of her chair.

“Well, that’s completely different.” Mona crossed her arms and sat back.

“I’ll take care of this from here, Mona,” Neva said. “Perhaps you’d give us a few minutes alone?”

Mona picked up her purse and walked toward the door. “Then I’ll see you in the gym.”

As soon as Mona left, Skye shot out of her chair and leaned on Neva’s desk. “Why do people who know the least know it the loudest? And why are you letting her get away with this?”

Neva stood. “That was getting us nowhere. Skye, the decision has been made. Justin Boward is not getting the award.” When Skye tried to interrupt, Neva raised her hand, palm out. “There are too many people in Scumble River who feel as your aunt does, and the school district is planning a referendum in the near future. We can’t afford to offend such a vocal part of our voters.”

“I won’t be the one to tell him.”

“That’s fine with me. I have no problem telling Justin. But is your refusal to tell him in his best interest or because you’re in a snit?” Neva asked quietly.

Skye’s reason fought with her emotions. “Okay, I’ll tell him, but nothing I can say is going to make up to him for this betrayal.”

Before leaving the office, Skye asked that Justin be paged and told to report to Ms. Denison. They met at her doorway. She noted that instead of his usual T-shirt and baggy shorts, he wore a white shirt and tie, with black dress pants.

His mood was different too. He stood tall and looked her in the eye, speaking without being prompted to do so. “What’s up, Ms. Denison? I can’t stay long today. The awards’ ceremony starts in a few minutes. Can you come and watch me get my trophy?”

Skye closed her eyes briefly and wondered what she was going to say. They hadn’t covered a situation like this in graduate school.

“Ah, Ms. Denison, are you okay?”

How could she destroy this kid just because some committee felt he wasn’t “good enough”? He had come so far. When she had first started to see him they had gone whole forty-minute sessions exchanging fewer than ten words apiece. He never made eye contact and was failing all his classes.

She knew now that whatever she said and however she said it, her words were going to destroy Justin’s emerging faith in adults. Skye wished she had more experience. She had no idea how to minimize this kind of damage.

Finally, she took a deep breath and spoke. “You really like Star Trek, don’t you? You watch all the reruns, right?”

He nodded, looking confused.

“Do you always think that the captain does the right thing, makes the right decision?”

Justin looked at her strangely. “No, not always, but usually.”

“If you were a member of the Star Trek crew, would you go against the captain when he or she gave an order you thought was wrong?”

After a long pause, he shook his head. “No, that would be mutiny. But I would enter a protest into my log.”

“Well, I’m sort of in that position now. Mrs. Llewellyn has ordered me to tell you something I don’t agree with, and I don’t think she agrees with it either, but her boss has ordered her to do it.” Skye leaned forward and put her hand over his as it lay on the table. “Justin, I’m sorry to have to say that you won’t be getting the award for best essay after all.”

Justin jerked his hand away and scrunched up his face. “Why? What happened?”

“They decided to give the prize to the second-place winner. They thought, even though you’re a great writer, hers was better when all things were considered.” Skye didn’t want to tell him he was considered unworthy, but she was also trying not to lie.

His shoulders slumped and he turned to leave. “It figures. The whole thing was bogus anyway. I knew I wasn’t good enough to win.”

Skye got up and joined him at the door. “That’s not true, Justin. You are a great writer and I can’t explain this. But just remember, even the captains on Star Trek occasionally make mistakes. And this is one of those times.”

“Can I go now?” He refused to look at her.

“Are you okay?”

He nodded, once.

“I’m really sorry. Don’t let this ruin your summer.”

Justin shrugged. He was back in nonverbal mode. All those months of therapy had been lost.

“I’ll see you next year in high school.”

Another shrug and he was gone.

Skye sat down at her desk and reached for the phone. She needed to notify Justin’s parents, so they’d be prepared when he arrived home. When she got their answering machine it dawned on her that they were probably already at the school for the awards ceremony.

Great. She’d have to find them before the program began. How could Neva and Mona do this to a family? Her hand clenched around the ceramic jar she had been fingering. It had the word MIRACLES printed across the front. She had purchased it when she finished college. Suddenly she snatched it off her desk and hurled it at the wall. As she watched the jar explode into tiny fragments she smiled grimly. There were no miracles in this job.

CHAPTER 10

Diddle, Diddle Dumpling, My Son Gus

After finding the Bowards, explaining what had happened, and directing them to Neva to lodge their grievance, Skye left the school. It was only one o’clock, but there was no way she was sitting through that particular awards ceremony. It would feel too hypocritical. She would return that evening to help chaperon the graduation.

She pulled into the police department’s parking lot. Only two vehicles occupied slots—Thea’s old Chevy and her brother’s Jeep. What was Vince doing there? Surely he wasn’t a suspect this time. It had been a nightmare last fall when he had been accused of murdering a Chicago TV star. Skye hurried across the asphalt and thrust the glass door open.

Thea, the dispatcher, greeted her. “Skye, honey, don’t you look cute as a bunny in that pink outfit.”

“Thanks, Thea. Is my brother here?”

“Yep, he and the chief are talking.” Thea reached for the phone, but let it slide back into the cradle. “They been talking long enough. You go up there and see what’s going on.”

“Thanks.” Skye flashed the dispatcher a smile and ran up the steps. Thea had been one of Vince’s staunchest supporters when the police had tried to pin last September’s murder on him.

She could hear the two men’s voices as she rushed down the hall. Their tones sounded calm. As she pushed open the half-closed door, both men turned toward her.

Wally spoke first. “Skye, I didn’t expect to see you here today.”

“There were a couple things about Grandma’s death I wanted to talk over with you. Simon told me about the poison.”

“Good. Vince and I are about done. You might as well pull up a chair.”

“Thanks.”

The chief picked up a piece of paper and gestured toward Vince. “So, this is a list of customers you had the day your grandmother died?”

Vince nodded. “Yes. I started at seven that morning and didn’t leave the shop until Simon called me around five.”

“Is there anyone who can vouch for you before seven?” Wally asked.

“Yes, ah, I was with someone from about eight o’clock the night before.” Vince glanced at Skye and his ears turned red. He scribbled something on a slip of paper and slid it over to the chief. “That’s her name. I’d appreciate it if you kept this quiet.”

“I’ll check it out personally. No one else will have to know.”

Skye stared at Vince. Who had he spent the night with? He was supposed to be going out with Abby Fleming, the school nurse.

The chief stood and walked around his desk. “Sounds like you’re in good shape.”

The men shook hands.

Vince turned to Skye before leaving. “Stop by the shop tomorrow if you get a chance, will you?”

“Sure.” And you can tell me who your new girlfriend is. “I’ll be over sometime in the afternoon.” Skye closed her eyes and smiled. “Tomorrow is the first day of summer vacation. I’m sleeping until noon.”

“At Mom and Dad’s?” Vince smirked. “Dream on.”

After Vince’s departure, Wally took the chair next to Skye. She wished he’d go back behind his desk. Distance was a good thing where she and the chief were concerned.

“So, what’s up?” Wally smiled warmly.

“Well, one thing I wanted to mention to you was that those survivalists out by the farm had been annoying my grandmother for months, and I was wondering if you’d checked them out.”

“I talked to some of them. They probably did trespass and hunt out of season, but I can’t really see a motive for them killing her.”

“Maybe she saw something she shouldn’t have. She liked to sit with binoculars and watch the birds.”

“If she was shot, maybe, but I can’t see them baking poison brownies. Or her eating them if they were a gift from those people.”

Skye was unconvinced, but she didn’t have anything solid to offer the chief. She’d have to check them out herself. “I see from Vince you’re examining alibis. How is everyone checking out?”

“This is strictly between you and me.” Wally turned and grabbed a file. “I don’t think the police commissioners would be happy to find out I was discussing this case with a civilian, but I’m sorry for not taking more seriously what you said the day you found your grandmother.”

She pushed her hair back over her shoulder. “Thanks. I promise to be discreet. All I want is to help you figure out what happened. Being a member of the family, I have access to facts you don’t, but unless I know what you already have I may not realize what info is important and what isn’t.”

Wally nodded. “That’s my thinking too. And I’m convinced it wasn’t you or Vince. And your parents were together until about four that day. They had gone out to breakfast at seven, then to Kankakee to Farm and Fleet and a few other stores. Both the waitress and clerks remember them. So, I’m comfortable with this arrangement.” He sat back and crossed his legs. All the good old boy humor left his face. “Just don’t let me down. I’ve never been able to forgive a betrayal.”

This was one of the things that made Wally so attractive to her. He was straightforward and could admit when he was wrong. She leaned toward him, their knees almost touching. “I’d never do anything to damage your trust in me.”

He smiled and brushed her cheek with a knuckle. “I’m counting on that.” He turned and picked up a different folder. “Even though the pan of brownies could have been dropped off anytime, we figure Mrs. J was put into the well sometime between noon and three.”

“Mrs. J wasn’t real big, but I don’t think I could get her down the stairs and all the way to the well.” Skye tapped her chin with her finger.

“It’d be easy to shove her down the stairs and then it’s flat ground from then on,” Wally said. “We found a child’s wagon in the garage that matches the tire tracks in the grass. Whoever did it used the wagon to haul Mrs. J from the house to the well and once they were there they just tipped her in.”

“Any fingerprints?”

“Nope, everything was wiped clean.” Wally threw the manila file on his desk.

“Do you suppose it was the murderer I heard in the garage that day?”

“Seems a good possibility.”

Skye shivered. It really had been stupid to go out to that garage. “You didn’t say anything about alibis for my aunts, uncles, and cousins.”

Wally shrugged. “It’s hard to pin the rest of them down. Ginger and Gillian were at work most of the day, but both left to do errands on their lunch hour. Minnie was supposedly in Urbana, but she had no appointments during that time period so she could have driven back and forth.”

Skye scratched her head. “And let me guess. Dante, Emmett, and Neal were in their fields, alone.”

“Right. Mona was alone too, at her house. Then she went to Joliet to the dentist and shopping. But her appointment wasn’t until three. Olive was alone until Dante came home about four and they went to the auction around five. And Hugo was at work at the car lot, but it was a slow day and there were long stretches of time when he was without a customer.”

“So any one of them could have done it.”

“Afraid so.”

Skye looked around the Scumble River High School gym. The bleachers were extended to their fullest length and folding chairs filled the floor. All the lights were blazing from protective cages in the ceiling. The scents of flowers and perfume competed with the long-entrenched effluvium of sweat and the unique hormonal odor of teenagers.

A scattering of people had already claimed seats in the front rows. They chatted with each other, read the program, and otherwise amused themselves while waiting for the ceremony to begin. Three or four small children raced up and down the aisles, looking sweaty and uncomfortable in their dress clothes.

Leaning against the entrance, Skye remembered her own graduation thirteen years ago. She had stood on that very stage as the valedictorian of her class. Back then she thought she knew everything. She was sure Scumble River had nothing to offer her, and life would be perfect if she could just get away from her hometown. She had yearned for bright lights and sophistication without understanding the cost involved in acquiring those wishes.

She had thought everyone else was dumb, but she had been the stupid one. The chance to make a speech to the whole town had gone to her head like cheap wine. And as with too much cheap wine, when she finally woke up, years later, she had a terrible hangover and faced the consequences of her actions.

Skye stared at the podium and saw herself giving the infamous valedictory speech in which she had told the whole town how little she thought of it and its residents. Now she had been back for ten months and people had stopped reminding her of that shameful oration, but she was sure someone would mention it again tonight.

Suddenly the PA cut into her thoughts. “Ms. Denison, please report to the band room.”

Hurrying down the corridor, Skye wondered what was up. They were using the band room as a staging area for the senior girls. Long before she walked through the door, she heard high-pitched shrieks and screams.

From the hall she could just make out two figures rolling on the floor. Both wore pastel nylon frocks that looked more like slips than dresses. As Skye skidded into the room, a crimson-tipped hand snaked out of the melee, grabbed its opponent’s fragile shoulder strap, and tore downward.

Homer Knapik, the principal, stood on one side of the writhing mass and his secretary, Opal Hill, on the other. Neither seemed to have a clue about how to stop the fight.

Skye scanned the area, looking for a way to separate the girls without resorting to physical force. She dropped her purse and grabbed a pair of cymbals lying next to a music stand. Wading through the onlookers, she got as close to the combatants as possible and banged the brass discs together with all the strength she could muster.

The brawlers stopped to cover their ears. Skye ignored the pain in her own ears, replaced the cymbals, grabbed the nearest girl by the upper arms, and dragged her out the door.

Homer nabbed the other warrior. He shouted instructions to Opal as he hurried down the hall after Skye. “Keep everyone else here.”

After shoving her captive into the health room, with an order to stay put, Skye closed the door and leaned against the wall. She was just in time to see Homer put the other prisoner into his office.

Homer and Skye met at the counter. “What was that all about?” Skye asked.

“The girl in the pink is Gus Yoder’s girlfriend. She was shooting her mouth off about how unfair it was that he wasn’t graduating tonight with his class. The one in the yellow is the girl he attacked in the rest room.” Homer took out a handkerchief and wiped his face.

“Did Miss Pink go after the other one or was it mutual?” Skye tried to get her breathing back to normal.

“From what the onlookers were saying, it sounds as if the girlfriend threw the first punch, but the one in yellow hit back.” Homer wrung his hands.

“So neither can graduate?” Skye drummed her fingers on the Formica.

Homer looked at his watch. “We’ve got less than half an hour to decide. What do you think?”

“If Opal can get me three of the most sensible witnesses, I’ll talk to them individually and see what the story is. In the meantime, I suggest you locate Miss Pink’s and Miss Yellow’s parents.”

Skye slipped into a seat in the back of the gym. She had retrieved her purse, and taking out her compact and lipstick, she tried to fix her face, glad she had worn her chestnut curls in a French braid.

It was too bad she and Homer had been forced to remove Gus’s girlfriend from participating in the graduation ceremony, but the girl had clearly been in the wrong and they couldn’t afford to let her get away with breaking the rules. What kind of message would that send to the other students?

As the music started, the audience stood and faced the entrance, all eyes straining for a glimpse of the graduates. Skye noted that this was Scumble River at its most interesting. Many of the assembly were dressed in their finest T-shirts and jeans. The man in front of her wore his black-and-gray hair straggling down his back, with a grapefruit-sized bald spot in the middle of his crown.

But the real show was the graduates themselves. This class had voted against the traditional caps and gowns, so the entire fashion spectrum was visible. The first girl in line wore a long black skirt with a matching crop top. A gold hoop adorned her exposed navel. Crew socks and heavy oxfords completed the look.

Colonel Sanders came next. This boy wore a red string tie, white suit, and a full beard. One of the last in line was a girl who had mistaken graduation for the prom. She had on a floor-length satin evening gown.

When the graduating class was seated, Homer stepped up to begin his welcoming speech.

Tuning him out, Skye looked over the seniors and mused, Well, no one can say there aren’t individual thinkers in this group. At least they didn’t all march out dressed exactly the same like my class did. We looked liked Barbie and Ken goes to graduation.

She studied them more closely. Looking past the strange hair, body piercing, and odd clothing, she saw the future farmers, scientists, and teachers that these kids would eventually become, and felt an unexpected lump in her throat. Suddenly, her attention was caught by a young man who sat directly behind the graduation candidates. He slipped to the floor and then popped up in an empty chair in the seniors’ row. Obviously he had crawled between the legs of the chairs.

Skye half rose from her seat. I wonder what that’s all about? Should I do something about it? Her thoughts were detoured when the superintendent stood to pass out the diplomas and she sank back down in her chair.

The majority of names were met with polite applause, but there were a few whose families seemed so surprised that their progeny had actually completed high school that the announcement of their names was met with uncontrollable screams of joy. Most of these latter students wore the embarrassed expression teens acquire whenever their relatives show too much enthusiasm for anything.

Skye consulted her program to see how many more students still had to come up to the stage. She needed to duck out a few minutes before the end and help the kids start to form a receiving line. The last of the W’s were being called, only four Z’s left.

Her head jerked up as the superintendent’s voice rang out, “Gustave Yoder.”

The young man whom Skye had earlier observed surreptitiously changing seats rose and sauntered forward. From the stage, Homer caught her eye. She shrugged. They had been outmaneuvered.

Her composure was tested when abruptly Gus moved to center stage and opened his mouth. Only the valedictorian was supposed to speak. Blessedly, a train chose that instant to blow its whistle and they were not forced to listen to whatever comment Gus was making. Skye could see his lips moving, but she couldn’t hear a word he said.

An hour later, after everyone had finally cleared out of the gym and foyer, Homer found Skye. They walked together toward his office.

Once they were behind closed doors he asked, “What in the hell happened?”

“No doubt Yoder’s girlfriend deliberately started the fight so the office would be left empty and a diploma for Gus could be snuck into the pile on the counter,” Skye explained.

“But how did he get a diploma in the first place?”

“Who knows? Maybe he bribed someone at the printers, or a friend stole one from the secretary’s drawer while she was in the process of typing in the names. It doesn’t really matter; his transcript will still state he didn’t really graduate. The diploma is just a piece of paper.”

“Well, I don’t like it.”

“Neither do I. As usual, the woman ended up sacrificing herself for her man. What a lesson for these girls to learn. Gus got to go through the graduation ceremony, but his girlfriend certainly did not.” Skye frowned. “I’m just glad we let the other girl graduate. At least we made the right decision in that case.”

Homer nodded.

“On a brighter note, maybe this will get Gus’s father off our backs.” Skye squared her shoulders. “And if Mr. Yoder is behind all the vandalism I’ve been experiencing, it better stop now. No more Ms. Nice Psychologist.”

Saturday morning started much earlier than Skye wanted it to. The phone at her parents’ house began ringing at six and the doorbell at eight. She and Bingo finally gave up trying to sleep and emerged from her bedroom just as her Uncle Dante was leaving.