Murder of a Sweet Old Lady

May turned the fire up under the kettle, put a cup in front of Skye, and pointed to a spot near Skye’s feet. “I told you that cat stays in your room.”

“But, Mom.”

“Don’t ‘but Mom’ me. Put it back now.” May held the bowl of Sweet ’N Low just out of Skye’s reach.

“Sorry, baby. I’ll take you with me when I run my errands today,” Skye apologized to the feline as she thrust Bingo into the bedroom and hurriedly closed the door.

Her tea and toast were ready when she got back to the table. “Why was Uncle Dante here?”

May sat down with her coffee mug. “Since they’ve finally released Grandma’s body and taken the tape off her house, he wants to get together this afternoon and have a family meeting to decide things.”

“That doesn’t sound like Uncle Dante. He doesn’t usually ask for anyone else’s opinion.”

“He doesn’t have any choice. Grandma’s intentions are pretty clear on that point.” May smiled slightly.

Skye took her things to the sink and spoke over her shoulder. “I didn’t think Grandma had a will, since she had the trust and everything.”

“The trust takes care of the major part of the estate, so she wrote a letter for the odds and ends. She gave it to me about six months ago, after we insisted she have Mrs. Jankowski live with her.” A look of sadness crossed May’s features.

“You never mentioned it.”

“Grandma asked me not to.” May joined Skye at the sink and turned on the water.

Skye frowned. It seemed that Grandma had kept a lot of things secret. “Do I have to be at this meeting?”

“Yes, all the children and grandchildren.” May wiped a plate and set it in the drainer.

Skye dried a glass and sighed. “Won’t that be jolly, now that everyone hates me?”

“Well, honey, you stirred up the stew, now you’re going to have to eat it.”

Vince’s hair salon, Great Expectations, was located in a stand-alone building on one of Scumble River’s busier corners. At twelve-thirty in the afternoon both the streets and the parking lot were empty. Skye grabbed the sack and paper cups from the passenger seat of the Buick, wiggled out of the car, and kicked the door closed with her foot.

As she approached the screen door at the front of the shop she yelled, “Vince, let me in. My hands are full.”

Her brother appeared, clad only in a swimming suit. He held the door open for her and took the drinks from her hands.

“Thanks.” Skye held out the sack to Vince. “Hope you haven’t eaten yet. I brought subs.”

“Nope, I was taking advantage of a lull in the action and doing some tanning.”

“That explains the trunks.” Skye headed toward the back room and Vince followed. “I was afraid they were the new uniform for your salon.”

Vince snorted. “Yeah? Well, how come your hair’s like that?”

The sun had dried her hair into a mass of curls. “I just came from swimming at the recreation club.”

“Oh. I’ll fix it for you before you leave.”

“Thanks.”

They each took a chair next to the shampoo bowls and spread napkins in their laps before opening the sandwiches. They chewed companionably for a while.

“So, who were you with the night before Grandma died?” Skye asked.

Vince choked and gasped for air. After taking a drink from his cup, he finally said, “Damn it, Skye. Isn’t a psychologist supposed to be a little more subtle than that?”

She shrugged. “Probably, but this is the first day of vacation and I’m officially off duty.”

“You might want to go back on duty if you expect to get anything out of our relatives about Grandma’s murder.”

Skye thought for a moment. “You’re right, but that still doesn’t answer my question. Who was she? And does Abby know?”

Vince finished his sub and got up to throw away the debris. He answered with his back to Skye. “Abby and I aren’t seeing each other anymore. She wanted to get married and I wasn’t ready.”

Skye could certainly sympathize with that. “So who’s your alibi?”

“Just someone I met at the gym. It was a one-night thing. I have no plans to see her again.” He looked at Skye and added before she could open her mouth, “And yes, I did use protection.”

Skye stood looking out the window at the vehicles filling Grandma Leofanti’s driveway. She wondered how true it was that you could tell a lot about people by what they drove.

She and her parents had come together in their white Oldsmobile, a middle-of-the-road type of car. Her brother Vince’s Jeep was parked next to Aunt Mona’s Lincoln. Those automobiles were so obvious they needed no interpretation.

The twins drove matching TranSport minivans. Again, that selection didn’t take a psychologist to figure out. Their parents, Minnie and Emmett, had come by truck, as had Uncle Dante. But while the Overbys’ pickup was old and showed years of hard work, Dante’s looked as if it had been driven off the showroom floor that morning. Skye wondered how he managed that on the income from a working farm.

Last, just pulling in, was Dante’s son, Hugo. His pearl-colored Infiniti gleamed as he parked it carefully away from the other vehicles and in the shade of the house. Skye felt lust in her heart, knowing she could never afford the thirty-five thousand dollar car her cousin drove so proudly.

The living room was crowded, and being the last to arrive, Hugo squeezed in beside his parents on the sofa. Minnie and Emmett had chosen the matching armchairs, a twin sitting on the floor at each of their feet. Mona and her husband, Neal, were on the love seat, looking too elegant for the surroundings.

Skye managed to avoid speaking to Mona and kept her distance from the couple. She was still too angry about the essay contest to be civil.

Jed, Skye, and Vince sat on chairs they had brought in from the dining room. May was ensconced in Grandma Leofanti’s La-Z-Boy.

Everyone stared at one another. No one seemed to know how to start.

Finally Skye said, “How about if we each take a moment and tell how Grandma was special to us?”

A murmur went through the crowd, but no one responded.

“I’d be glad to go first,” Skye continued.

Ginger leaned forward. “Yes, you always are, glad to be first, I mean.”

Gillian snickered.

“Fine, feel free to go ahead then.” Skye sat back and crossed her arms.

Before Ginger could respond, Dante interjected, “Don’t be asinine, Skye. Let’s just get this over with.” He turned to May. “So, what did Ma want us to do?”

May put on her glasses and leafed through a sheaf of papers. “Well, I’m not even sure if it’s legal or not, but since most of the estate is tied up in the trust, she just wrote me a letter about the other stuff.”

Hugo looked at his father. “Maybe we should talk to our lawyer and see what he says.”

“I thought of that,” May said quickly, “but he costs so much and this is really just about her burial and the disposal of the knickknacks. I guess it depends if we can agree.”

Dante narrowed his eyes. “Go ahead then and tell us what she wanted.”

“First, it seems that she already picked out her casket and prepaid for the funeral at Reid’s. Here’s the contract.” May passed a document to Dante. “She also talked to Father Burns and picked out the readings and such.”

“Well, I wonder why he’s never discussed that with me or Neal?” Mona said. “I am head of the Altar and Rosary Society and Neal is the Grand Knight of the KC.”

“So, it seems the arrangements are already made,” May said. “Unless someone has an objection.” She looked around the room.

Dante glared at Skye. “I should have known you’d manage to get the business for Reid’s.”

“Uncle Dante, Simon doesn’t need our business.” Skye paused and then smiled wickedly. “After all, people are just dying to get in.”

Vince snickered and the twins tsked.

Dante turned red and sputtered. “You . . . you have no respect—”

“As to the car,” May interrupted, “Mom wanted Skye to use it as long as she needed, but when it’s sold the money is to be divided among the great-grandchildren.”

The twins buzzed.

“Okay,” May continued, “now for the personal stuff. Mom wants us to each take what we want and then sell whatever no one claims.”

“What if more than one of us wants something?” Ginger asked.

“She’s thought of that. We’re to draw numbers and keep going around until there’s nothing left that we want.” May held up a bowl filled with slips of paper. “That’s why she requested that the grandchildren not bring their spouses or children.”

“So, whoever gets number one gets first choice?” Gillian rose to her knees.

“Right.” May mixed the chits up with her right hand.

“Who gets to draw first?” Hugo edged forward on his seat.

“Oldest to youngest. Mom had everything figured out.” May brought the dish over to Dante.

She then selected a number herself. After putting it in her pocket, May went over to Minnie. “Your turn.”

Minnie shrank back in her seat. “Let the girls go first.”

“Sorry, but that’s not how Mom wanted it.” May stood firm.

Mona was the last of the children. Hugo was the eldest grandchild, then Vince, then Skye.

“I can never remember. Which twin is older?” May asked.

“I am.” Ginger snatched one of the two remaining slips from the bowl.

To Skye Vince whispered, “Bet that’s the last time she ever admits it.”

May sat back down and glanced around the room. “Who drew number one?”

No one spoke. Everyone rechecked their chit and then looked at one another.

Eventually, Minnie raised her hand. “But I don’t know what I want.”

Ginger and Gillian began whispering furiously to their mother, who looked more bewildered as they spoke. She finally nodded.

“I want the dining room set.” Minnie sank back in her chair like a deflated balloon.

Skye hoped this didn’t bring on another of Minnie’s spells. In the past, in any kind of stressful situation, Minnie would close herself in her bedroom and read cook-books for days on end. She’d come out during the wee hours of the morning and raid the kitchen, then retreat back to the bedroom. She wouldn’t talk to anyone, and an attack could last from two or three days to a week. No one could break her out of one once it started.

“That includes the buffet and china hutch, right?” Ginger hovered over her mother.

Voices flooded the room. When they quieted, May said, “Yes, anything that is a set goes together. We aren’t doing this fork by fork.”

Dante stepped toward May. “What gives you the right to say so?”

“If we’re going by this letter, Mom asked me to settle any disputes.” May looked at Dante without blinking.

He grumbled, but having number two he took the antique sleigh-style bedroom set.

“Three?” May’s eyes searched the assembly.

Gillian flashed her paper triumphantly. “I want Grandma’s good jewelry.”

“There’s only a necklace and earrings. And it isn’t a set. You’ll have to choose one piece.” As Gillian opened her mouth to argue, May continued, “If you argue you automatically have to go last.”

“Fine, I’ll take the emerald earrings.” Gillian stuck out her lip.

Ginger shot Skye a malicious glance. “I have number four. But before we go on, I want to bring something up. Since Skye, as the oldest female grandchild, already got the Leofanti emerald ring, wouldn’t it be fairer for her to go last now?”

“No.” May’s look dared anyone to disagree. “So, what do you want, Ginger?”

“I’ll take the emerald pendant.” Ginger sank back on her heels and whispered to her twin.

“Five?”

“Me, Mom.” Skye turned the paper she had been clutching to face the room. “I’d like the oak table by the window. It was Grandma’s favorite piece. She talked about it a lot when she was telling me the family history.”

Mona was next and she took the silver. Hugo was number seven and wanted the living room set. Vince took the safe, saying he could use it in his shop, and May took the china.

By the conclusion, everyone had four or five things and little was left to be sold.

Besides the table, Skye ended up with an old trunk, an incomplete set of pink crystal wineglasses, and the everyday dishes. No one mentioned Bingo, and she didn’t remind them.

As they all got ready to leave, May cleared her throat. “I have one more announcement.”

They all looked at her expectantly.

“Chief Boyd found the body of Mrs. Jankowski yesterday in the abandoned well out back. With her, they found a pan of brownies, which they believe were poisoned. They were probably responsible for Mom and the housekeeper’s deaths.”

The room was filled with voices asking questions.

May shook her head. “That’s all I know.”

The family broke into clots, hauling away their loot and whispering about May’s announcement.

Skye walked out with her parents and Vince. They were the first to go, leaving the others still picking over the last little items.

As Vince loaded Skye’s table into the Olds, he asked her, “Why didn’t you take one of the more valuable items when it was your turn?”

“Like I said, this was Grandma’s favorite piece.” Skye paused.

“There’s something more,” Vince prodded.

Skye reddened. “Well, not that I believed her, but she used to say it was magical.”

CHAPTER 11

Early To Bed

Skye sat on the closed toilet seat and watched her mother put on makeup at the counter. Saturday night and nothing to do. Even my parents have plans. My life sucks.

“Maybe we shouldn’t go tonight. Mom only died a few days ago and it feels sort of funny to be going out.”

“The Grandma I knew wouldn’t want you to sit at home and cry. She’d be the first one to arrive at the party and the last to leave.”

Tears ran down May’s cheek. “You’re probably right, but I sure do miss her. I find myself holding the phone and dialing her number before I remember she’s gone.”

“Our after-school visits meant a lot to me.” Skye handed her mother a tissue. “More than I realized at the time. She was quite a ‘high-spirited’ young lady, as they used to say. I kind of got the feeling her family married her off to Grandpa to calm her down.”

May blotted her eyes and blew her nose. “She never would talk about that with me. She wouldn’t even tell me how Dad proposed or about their first date.”

“Grandma said that the marriage had been arranged after her original fiancé died.”

“I never knew that.” May wiped away another tear. “Will you write all this down so you don’t forget?”

“Oh, don’t worry. I taped all our conversations.”

“Good.” May took a deep breath and turned back to the mirror. After a few seconds, she held out two containers of eyeshadow. “Which do you think would look better with my dress?”

“You’re wearing the taupe silk?” Skye studied the palettes. “Go with the shades of wine; I think the brown would wash you out.”

Nodding, May began the delicate operation of applying the color to the crease of her eyelid. “You sure you don’t want to go to the wedding reception with us?”

“Mom, I wasn’t invited, remember?” Skye studied her mother’s handiwork.

“They probably forgot you were back in town.” May clicked the case shut and reached for her mascara. “You really don’t need an invitation. The announcement in the paper said all friends and relatives were welcome. It’s not like it’s a sit-down dinner.”

“No, I barely remember these people. Who are they again?”

“They’re your dad’s second cousins.” May carefully colored her lips. “What will you do while we’re gone? I don’t like the thought of you moping around here by yourself.”

“I am not moping. Maybe I’ll take a ride, or visit Vince or Charlie. Simon’s got a wake tonight, but we’re going out tomorrow for brunch.”

“How about Trixie? Now that she’s back in town you should try and get together with her sometime.” May stood back from the mirror and checked her face.

“It’s a Saturday night, and she is married, so I don’t think this is the time.”

“Married. Seems like everyone’s doing that lately.” May shot Skye a meaningful look before walking out of the bathroom.

Thirty minutes after her parents left, Skye sat in the La-Z-Boy with Bingo ensconced on her lap. She was flipping through TV channels, but most programs were reruns of things she hadn’t wanted to watch the first time around. Six o’clock on a Saturday night offered poor television viewing.

She reached for the phone, careful to leave the cat undisturbed. No answer at Vince’s.

Next, she tried Charlie, who was just leaving for a poker game with his buddies.

Skye frowned when she heard this. “But, Uncle Charlie, I thought you weren’t going to gamble anymore, after you almost lost everything last fall.”

His usual booming voice sounded sheepish. “We play for toothpicks. No money is involved.”

“Oh, well, I still don’t think it’s a good idea. It feeds your addiction.” Skye sat up straighter.

Bingo opened one eye and glared.

“Why don’t you come with me? It’s just Eldon, Homer, and a couple of other old guys. Nothing for you to worry about.”

“I can’t see me playing poker with the mayor and the high school principal. Thanks anyway, Uncle Charlie. Have a good time.”

She sat stroking Bingo for a moment, then got up and grabbed her purse. The cat gave a single sharp meow before settling into the warm spot on the chair Skye had vacated. Skye dumped the bag’s contents on the sofa and searched for the piece of paper with Trixie’s number on it.

Her wallet, checkbook, sunglasses case, and cosmetic pouch were quickly examined, and thrown back in the tote’s gaping maw. Then she made a pile of things for the trash. This is pathetic. I’m cleaning out my purse for entertainment on a Saturday night.

Finally, the only things remaining were two crumpled sheets of paper. She smoothed the smallest and found what she had been looking for. Skye scooped up the receiver and punched in Trixie’s number.

On the sixth ring, Trixie answered, just as Skye was thinking of hanging up.

Skye could hear other people’s voices. “Hi, this is Skye. Is this a bad time?”

Trixie lowered her voice. “Depends on your frame of reference. We have my in-laws over for the weekend.”

“Oh, well. I thought you’d probably be busy, but I decided to check just in case you were free. I was thinking we could get together.” Skye hoped the disappointment didn’t show in her words.

“They’re leaving tomorrow. How about lunch on Monday? You are out of school now, right?”

“Yes, thank goodness. Monday would be great. Want to go into Kankakee and do some shopping too?”

“Sounds good to me. Shall I pick you up around ten?” Trixie asked.

“Ten’s good, but let me pick you up. I’m not sure where I’ll be.” After Skye explained about the broken windows, they hung up.

Skye gathered the pile of trash she had accumulated from her purse, and walked out to the waste can in the kitchen. As she tossed in everything, a crinkled paper fell to the floor. She picked it up and flattened it out.

Written in crude printing, all in capital letters, was: “BITCH! KWIT STIKKIN YER NOSE IN OTHER PEEPLES BIZNESS.”

Shaken, Skye sat at the counter and stared at the hateful message. In a few minutes she drew a shaky breath, stood, and got a Ziploc from the drawer. Edging the page into the plastic bag with a pencil eraser, she sealed the top, and put it in her purse. She knew she had probably already destroyed any fingerprints, but she wasn’t taking any chances. She’d bet money this was the work of Hap Doozier, or maybe Gus Yoder’s father.

After Skye had dropped the note off with the dispatcher at the police department, she decided to cruise the downtown area of Scumble River. As a teenager she had spent many Friday and Saturday evenings riding from one end of town to the other. The kids started at Mayor Clapp’s used car lot on the north end of Basin Street, and looped around the McDonald’s at the far south extreme. Some called it “shooting the loop”; others labeled it “buzzing the gut.”

From the parade of cars crawling slowly by and the honking of horns, it appeared that this tradition had not changed.

Skye rolled down the window and turned up the radio. Pam Tillis was singing about lost love and squandered dreams.

When the song ended, the disc jockey’s voice oozed out of the speakers. “This is WCCQ, the Love and Desperation Hour. What can I play for you?”

A low-pitched baritone answered. “ ‘I’m Having a Bad Day’ by The Charlie Stewart Band.”

“You got a dedication for that?” the DJ asked.

After a pause the caller answered, “It’s to SD.”

“Who from?”

Another pause. “Let’s just say I’m hoping she can figure that out.”

Skye thought, SD could be me. That voice did sound sort of familiar. Nah.

She was almost to the south turnaround when she abruptly decided to swing into McDonald’s rather than circle it. Skye parked the Buick, then flipped down the visor and used its mirror to straighten her hair. The open window had allowed her curls to be whipped into a beehive. While she was at it, she powdered her nose and added a light coat of lipstick.

Her white shorts and navy striped polo had managed to ride up, exposing her upper thighs and midriff. She smoothed her clothes down as she exited the car. Her Keds squeaked on the cooling asphalt.

The glare blinded her for a moment when she pushed open the door, but she made her way instinctively to the counter. The line wasn’t long and she was able to order her ice cream in a few minutes.

The girl behind the counter handed her the clear plastic dish and said, “Here you go, Ms. Denison. You were awesome breaking up that fight last night.”

Skye recognized her from the high school, but couldn’t remember her name. “Thanks. Did the kids know Gus was going to sneak in?”

The girl’s face reddened, and she muttered as she turned to wait on another customer. “Some.”

Oh, no, I broke another taboo. I asked one kid to rat on another. There goes my “awesome” reputation. Skye shook her head.

Sweeping her eyes across the room, Skye headed for one in the back corner. She liked to observe without being watched herself. As she neared her favorite table, she noticed it was occupied and started to veer to the next one on the right.

A voice stopped her. “Come sit with me.”

When she hesitated, Chief Boyd added, “I’m having a bad day.”

Skye slid into his booth and glanced across at him. He appeared haggard. The skin around his eyes was papery looking. “Are you okay?”

He shrugged. “Better now.”

Alarms were going off in Skye’s head. He was not dressed in his uniform and thus probably off duty. Why would a married man with no children be alone at Mc-Donald’s on a Saturday night?

The silence grew awkward and she rushed to fill the gap with words. “Ah, gee, I was just at the police station. I found a threatening note in my purse so I dropped it off.”

“What did it say?” Wally sat forward with a look of concern.

She told him, and he shook his head. “Sure seems that someone is not too happy with you. First your tires, then your windows, and now this. What have you been doing to tick people off?”

“My job.” Skye made a face. “It’s not uncommon for parents to blame others for their children’s failings.”

“Yeah, some of those kids I get in at the police station, I just want to shake some sense into them. The first thing out of their mouths is: ‘It’s not my fault.’ ”

“Oh, it’s never their fault. And what amazes me is eighty percent of the time the parents think that way too.”

“Yes, and these are the same kids who say to their folks: ‘It’s my life,’ and ‘You’re not my boss.’ It doesn’t make sense. If they really believe that it’s their life and their parents aren’t their boss, then there is no one to blame but themselves.”

“Too bad the parents would sue us if we said half of what we’re really thinking.” Skye snorted inelegantly, then realized what she had done and felt a blush start up her cheeks.

Wally didn’t help. He just looked at her with a goofy smile.

Skye glanced around. If anyone overheard their conversation, they would think she and Wally didn’t care about the kids they worked with. But in truth they were probably more concerned than the parents who let their children run wild. Like all people in high-stress professions, they needed to vent.

When the silence lengthened, Skye once again searched for a topic of conversation. “So, what’s new with my grandmother’s case?”

She saw disappointment flash in his eyes before he recovered his usual mild expression. “They’ve found that her housekeeper was murdered using the same poison.”

“Just as we suspected. Now the question becomes, why was my grandmother left in her bed, but Mrs. Jankowski dumped in the well?”

He leaned forward, his forearms on the table. “My guess is that whoever did it thought your grandmother’s death would be written off to old age, and no one would bother to find some poor Polish woman with no relatives or friends.”

“Or maybe they didn’t expect Mrs. Jankowski to die. Maybe she wasn’t supposed to get hold of the brownies.” Skye, too, leaned forward, lowering her voice. “My aunts were always fighting about what Mrs. J ate. They’d bring a plate of cookies for Grandma, who would eat one or two, and then Mrs. J would polish off the rest.”

“If I remember correctly, the contents of both stomachs were similar.”

“Did you find anything when you went through the house?”

“Yes. Someone had been violently ill, but the mess had been cleaned up. This supports the physical evidence the doctor found the day she was murdered. He found signs that she had vomited, but had been cleaned up. We found dirty rags, one of your grandmother’s dresses, and a set of her underclothing. It was all stuffed down that well.”

“That was what Simon was referring to the night of the murder when he said they had found irregularities.”

A line formed between Wally’s brows. “This is the way I think it went down. The murderer brought over the poisoned brownies. Gave them to your grandma to eat, waited, and when she got sick, cleaned her up. This person changed her into her nightgown and put her to bed.”

“Where was Mrs. J while this was going on?” Skye shredded a napkin.

The chief twiddled the straw in his drink. “The murderer must have told her to relax, they would take care of your grandmother. And while she waited, Mrs. J ate a brownie.”

“Did the killer clean her up too?”

The chief shook his head. “Nope, just stuffed her down the well, along with her belongings, and the remaining brownies.”

“So, the murderer went back inside, straightened up, and then disposed of the rest of the evidence.”

Wally shrugged. “That’s how it looks.”

“Any suspects besides my family?”

“No, it’s pretty unlikely that it was an outsider.” He took a swallow of his Coke. “It’s also damn hard to find the killer when it’s a family member. Everyone sticks together, and no one will say anything about the other.”

“Whoever did it had to be strong enough to get that well cover on and off. That eliminates the women.” Skye ate a spoonful of her melting ice cream.

“Maybe not. We found signs that a chain and a car were used to move the well cover.”

“And you said a wagon was used to move Mrs. J’s body so I guess that means anyone could have managed it physically.”

They were silent as Skye ate her sundae and the chief finished his drink.

Skye scraped the last drizzle of chocolate from the container and wiped her lips with her napkin. “Thanks for telling me all this.”

Wally pushed the debris to one side of the table. “You know I trust you.”

She felt her face get hot and half rose from the booth. “Well, I’d better get going.”

“Could you stay a little while longer?”

“Sure.”

“Did you hear the dedication on CCQ?”

Skye nodded. “The song about having a bad day?”

“Yes.” Wally looked down at his clenched hands. “I thought I saw you drive by and hoped you had your radio tuned to WCCQ. I really wanted to talk to you.”

Skye sat back down. “Okay.”

“Darleen’s left me.”

“Oh.” Skye couldn’t think of anything to say. The pain in his eyes made her want to reach out and comfort him, but deep down she knew that wasn’t a good idea so she settled for saying, “I’m so sorry.”

He buried his face in his hands. “I didn’t see it coming, but now that I look back I wonder how dumb I could be. She’s never been a happy person.”

“No, from the little I know her, I’d say she has a lot of characteristics of someone who is chronically depressed.” Skye frowned. She probably should have tried harder to connect with Darleen and gotten her some help.

As if reading her mind, Wally said, “I made her see a therapist and counselors, but she never cooperated with them.”

“You really can’t help someone who isn’t ready.” Skye felt as if she were trying to walk on bubble wrap without popping any of the air pockets. “What happened that made her leave?”

“Well, you know that she’s always wanted to have kids and we’ve never been able to?”

Skye nodded, remembering Darleen’s desperation to have a baby. It had almost been Darleen’s downfall last autumn during a murder investigation.

“She met a guy in her Bible study group whose wife died in childbirth. He already had two small children and now a newborn . . .”

“So she’s in love?” Skye sighed. “The maternal instinct is a tough one to overcome.”

“Yes.” Wally reached across the table and took Skye’s hands. “I feel so helpless.”

Looking down at their intertwined hands, Skye searched for the right words. “I don’t know what to say. Did you just find out?”

He squeezed her fingers. “Everything was gone when I got home from work today.”

“How devastating.” Skye felt a weight on her chest as she gazed into his pain-filled eyes.

“She took everything but my clothes—all the furniture, appliances, kitchen stuff, even the shower curtain. I’ll be sleeping on the floor tonight. Why would she be so vicious?” he asked.

“People do strange things in the heat of the moment. Could be she just wanted you to know she was serious about this. Maybe, after things cool down a little, you two can talk and work something out.”

They were silent again. Skye hesitated. She never talked about her broken engagement, but she finally said, “I know how much it hurts. The day I got the notice that I had been fired, I got home and found my fiancé had moved out.”

“The bastard.”

Skye got up. “You do get over it, although there is always a small pain. A reminder.”

He followed her. “It’d be a hard thing to forget.”

They deposited their trash in the bin and walked outside. Skye unlocked her car door and slid inside.

Wally stood at the window. “Are you sure it gets better?”

She nodded.

“I’m trusting you on this.” He stared into her eyes.

Skye caught her breath and struggled to keep her voice even. “I’ve been there. Call me if you need to talk.”

“I might take you up on that.” Wally leaned down and gently pressed his lips to hers.

Without waiting for her response, he turned and walked away.

Skye raised fingers to her tingling lips. She felt confused. Wally was all wrong for her. He’d never leave Scumble River. If she were with him, she’d be stuck here forever. Simon was closer to her own age, single, well-off, and more urbane. Everything a woman could ask for. Then why did her heart flutter whenever Wally was around?

Sunday afternoon, one of Skye’s favorite times of the week. All the obligations taken care of and still not near Monday morning. She smiled and stretched, snuggling into her chaise lounge, and enjoying the sensation of being back in her own cottage. Everything was perfect. Simon was sitting in the matching chair and the weather was exactly right for being out on the deck. Brunch had been great. He always found the best new restaurants to try. They had gone for a drive through Kankakee State Park, and when they got back they’d found that her windows had all been repaired.

The late afternoon sun had lulled them both into a dreamlike state. Skye gazed at the lush green trees almost obscuring her vision of the river. She spotted a squirrel dragging an ear of corn that was almost twice its size.

“Shall I put some music on?” Simon asked.

“Something mellow. Do you want a drink?” Skye extracted herself from the deep cushions.

“Sure. A soda sounds good.” Simon followed her through the sliding glass doors into the living room.

This was one of the things she liked about Simon. He wasn’t much of a drinker. Except for the occasional glass of wine at a fine restaurant, he seemed to prefer soft drinks. Skye poured a can of Diet Coke into two glasses filled with ice. She picked them up and went back outside. Simon was already there, listening to the CD he had selected.

She handed him his drink and said, “Have you identified the poison that killed Grandma and Mrs. Jankowski?”

He put his glass down on the little round table that separated their chairs. “Yes, but I can’t tell you what it was.”

“I see. You don’t trust me.” Skye sat on the foot of the lounger rather than stretching out. The police chief has more faith in me than my own boyfriend. Something to think about.

“It’s not that. I just don’t want you to get any more involved in this whole mess than you have to. Finding out who killed her will not bring your grandmother back.”

Skye felt a brief flare of anger. “Maybe. Can you at least tell me when you’re going to release Mrs. J’s body?”

“I called the agency she worked for and asked them to make the arrangements. Didn’t they call your family?” Simon looked tired of this subject.

“No, why would they?”

“The woman in charge seemed to feel it was your family’s responsibility to bury Mrs. Jankowski. She didn’t have any relatives here and no one in Poland has the money for a funeral.”

“Uh-oh. I’d better call Mom.”

“Sure, go ahead.” Simon leaned back in his chaise.

By the time Skye returned to the deck he was asleep.

CHAPTER 12

Rain, Rain Go Away

Skye watched as the first drop of rain hit Simon squarely in the face. He bolted upright, but quickly regained his composure. She had been reading a new mystery with Bingo stretched down the length of her thigh.

The music had stopped an hour ago, but Skye had been too engrossed in the adventures of the amateur sleuth to put on another CD. Bingo was purring in his sleep, his sides vibrating in time to a rhythm that only he could hear.

Simon wiped the moisture off his face with his handkerchief and looked at his watch. “How long have I been asleep?”

Skye closed the book after marking her place. “A little over an hour.”

“Why didn’t you wake me?” He stretched and straightened his clothing.

“We didn’t have any plans, and I figured you must be tired.” Skye swept up the sleeping cat, and put him inside the cottage before he could protest.

Moving to her side, Simon put his arms around her. “You’re very understanding. I got called out late last night to pick up a body. I didn’t get to bed until after three then; I had to be at church at nine.”

“You couldn’t have skipped services this one time?” Skye asked.

“No, I was playing the organ for the choir.” Simon tucked a stray curl behind her ear.

“I forgot you sometimes play for them.” Skye linked her hands behind his neck and leaned back slightly. “Why did you have to go out so late?”

“One of those guys in the survivalist group was cleaning his gun, and it went off.” A shadow passed over Simon’s features. “He was only twenty-two.”

“Oh, how awful.” Skye gave Simon a hug. “No question it was an accident?”

“We don’t know yet. Witnesses say so.” Simon peeked at his watch.

“Do you have an appointment?” she asked.

Shrugging apologetically, Simon said, “Well, I did agree to talk to that boy’s parents this evening.” Before she could respond, he added, “I have a meeting with your family tomorrow to go over your grandmother’s arrangements, and I didn’t want them to feel rushed.”

“That was very thoughtful of you.” Skye pecked him on the cheek and slipped out of his arms. “We were rather surprised that Grandma had made all those prearrange ments without our knowledge.”

“More and more people are doing that. I feel it’s a good idea. One less thing for the family to worry about.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked.

“Well, it’s a matter of confidentiality.”

She arched an eyebrow.

“Your grandmother asked that I not mention it to anybody.”

“Surely she didn’t mean me.” Skye turned and walked into the house.

“She didn’t make any exceptions.”

“This whole thing has been quite an eye-opener. I never realized how many secrets Grandma kept from us. And I’m learning a lot about my family.” Skye paused. “Maybe, in some cases, more than I wanted to know.”

They walked toward the front door.

Simon put his hand on her cheek. “It’s not that bad, is it?”

“I really miss Grandma. And I knew a lot of my relatives didn’t exactly see eye to eye with me, but I think now some of them really hate me.”

“You have had a rough time lately. I’m sure all the vandalism hasn’t helped either. I was surprised to see the windows fixed so soon.”

“Me too. I had called around and all the companies told me two weeks. Then Dad took over, without telling me of course, and voilà, they’re all fixed in a few days.”

“He fixed your tires too. Jed seems to be a handy man to have around.”

“Too handy. At this rate I’ll never learn to take care of myself.”

Simon leaned down and kissed her. “They’re just trying to convince you how nice it is to live close to home, so you won’t move halfway across the country again.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.”

After Simon’s departure, the intensity of the rain increased. Skye curled up on the couch and listened to it hit the sliding glass doors. It sounded almost like a spray of bullets. Bingo wedged himself into the bottom shelf of the bookcase, between books by Grant and Isenberg, and yowled forlornly.

Unable to get back into her mystery, Skye turned her thoughts to her grandmother’s murder.

Maybe Wally was right. Maybe the murderer was someone in the family. She closed her eyes and shivered. As her grandmother used to say, that would be a bitter pill to swallow. Skye would much prefer it be those survivalists. They certainly had proximity. But would they try to pass off a murder as death by natural causes? Grandma wasn’t assaulted, nothing was stolen, and everything was put back to look normal. If a member of that group was the killer, what was the motive?

Grandma’s “magic” table caught her eye. She ran her fingertip lightly over the polished wooden surface, straightened the lace runner so that it lay exactly down the center, and adjusted the silver-framed picture of Antonia.

Next, Skye wandered into the kitchen and peered distractedly into the fridge, still puzzling about her grandmother’s death.

Why would anyone want to kill Grandma? Maybe Uncle Dante because he really wanted the land. But since it was in trust and he was the trustee, he had control anyway. She needed to look into the details regarding that arrangement as soon as possible.

Minnie was the only other one she could think of who had even a slight reason to want Grandma dead. Even though they had a housekeeper, Aunt Minnie had insisted on cooking every meal for Grandma, which meant running over to the farm three times a day. Maybe she was tired of taking care of her, especially if her own mental health was deteriorating. Her spells had been getting closer together and of longer duration since she started going through menopause. Now instead of one every few months, Minnie was likely to have one every three or four weeks.

Skye closed the refrigerator door without taking anything from its shelves. She opened a cupboard and stared inside. She knew neither her parents nor Vince could have done it. That left Aunt Mona and her cousins. She needed to find out more about them.

Tomorrow she’d go over to Grandma’s and take another look around. Maybe she would recognize things that the police had missed. She especially wanted a chance to check out the garage. She was sure someone had been in there Monday, when she found her grandmother’s body.

Skye slammed the cupboard door, still empty-handed. What had she been thinking of? She couldn’t go during the day unless she wanted everyone and his brother to know what she was doing.

Too many of her relatives lived along that road and routinely passed by the farm several times a day. The house was plainly visible as they drove by. There was nowhere to hide the car. Even if she pulled it into the garage she risked being caught in the act. Skye realized she had to go while it was dark. Tonight would be the perfect time. Fewer people would be out because of the storm.

She changed into black jeans, a long-sleeved black T-shirt, and stuffed her hair underneath a dark baseball cap. The only flashlight she could find was in the glove compartment of the car. She hoped the batteries would hold out.

During the drive to her grandmother’s, she tried not to think of what she was about to do. Skye knew it was dangerous, but she had weighed the odds and decided to take the risk. She had briefly considered calling someone to go with her, but her parents’ latest assaults on her independence left her reluctant to ask for help from anyone.

It was nearly ten o’clock when she parked the Buick at the farm. Storm clouds covered the moon, blotting out the little natural light available. Skye got out of the car and hurried through the rain toward the garage’s side entrance. She clutched the flashlight tighter and forced herself to step inside.

She swept the flashlight’s beam around the unfinished walls. Hanging from nails were rusted shovels, broken rakes, and other discarded yard tools that no one had touched since Grandpa had died. Jed took care of the lawn using his own equipment.

Skye felt disappointed and shook her head at her own foolishness. What had she expected to find in a garage?

A car-sized space was empty, but the remaining floor held three boxes, a discarded kitchen table, and a broken rocker. Skye squatted next to the first carton and eased open its flaps. It was filled with old magazines. Reader’s Digest, TV Guide, and Better Homes and Gardens shared space with Country Living.

Skye pulled up the rocker and positioned the flashlight’s beam to fall on the contents of the box. She began going through the periodicals, checking each title and shaking them to make sure nothing was hidden inside.

The second crate held more of the same—Family Circle, Redbook, and Outdoor Life. Skye resumed her inspection.

After an hour all she had to show for her trouble was a mountain of subscription cards, a sore derriere from the cracked seat of the chair, and dirty hands.

Sighing, she pulled over the third container. This one was secured with packing tape and after breaking two nails she decided the only way to open it was with a knife. Not seeing any suitable implement in the garage, she tried picking the carton up.

The medium-sized box was deceptively heavy. She struggled to get it into her arms and walk with it to the car. It was a relief to dump it into the backseat. Thinking of Simon’s admonishment the night her tires were slashed, she locked the car doors.

Skye was completely wet by the time she returned to the garage, and could feel her damp hair curling tightly as she put everything back the way she had found it. She was walking out when she heard a fluttering sound overhead. Frightened, she swung the light upward. A bird was perched on a board that ran the length of the building.

These strips of wood had been erected for additional storage. Skye swept the area with her flashlight. It was empty except for a trunk.

No way was she climbing up there to look into a chest that had no doubt been there since her great-great-grandparents came over from Italy. But even as the thought crossed her mind, Skye was dragging an old ladder with several missing rungs to the middle of the floor. Shaking her head at her own stupidity, she stuck the flashlight into her cleavage and climbed. As she went farther toward the ceiling, the heat and dust increased, and she fought to keep from sneezing.

Once she reached the trunk she discovered that it was too heavy to bring down the ladder. But the lid opened easily, and she leaned against the top step and felt inside.

At first, Skye thought the chest was empty, but she finally felt something on the bottom. She inched up one more step and was able to curl her fingers around the object and lever it up enough to grab. It was heavy, and her hand ached by the time she got it back to the ground.

Skye gently eased it onto the table and illuminated it with her light. It was a family Bible. Just as she opened the black leather cover her flashlight flickered and went dead. Swallowing a scream, she clutched the book to her chest. She shook the flashlight and flicked the switch on and off; it still wouldn’t work.

She forced herself to wait a few moments for her eyes to adjust to the darkness, then made her way out of the garage. The rain had stopped momentarily, and the moon glowed brightly. She looked at her watch. It was after twelve-thirty and she had to go to the bathroom. Mom was right. You should always go before you leave home.

She fished the key from her pocket, unlocked the Buick, and tucked the Bible next to the box in the backseat. After relocking the vehicle, she headed inside to use the facilities.

The key had been replaced on the window frame’s nail and Skye had no trouble gaining entrance to the house. She caught her breath when she entered the kitchen. Almost everything had been removed. The cupboard doors hung open, their shelves nearly bare. All the appliances were gone except for the old stove. Everyone must have stayed after she and her family left and picked the place clean. It looked as if a swarm of locusts had come through and spit out the few things that weren’t tasty enough to swallow.

Feeling a twinge of disgust, Skye hurried to the bathroom, hoping no one had decided they wanted the fixtures. In there, both the linen closet and medicine cabinets had been similarly ransacked, with only a few empty prescription bottles left lying on their sides. The toilet gleamed whitely, and she sighed in relief as she attacked the zipper on her jeans.

After she was finished, Skye washed her hands and was then forced to let them air dry, since even the curtains were gone. It was late and she was tired, but this was her chance to take one more look and see if she could spot anything the police had overlooked.

The rest of the rooms were similarly bare. She wondered what they’d do about the house. It was old and needed major renovations. The land it occupied was probably worth more than the building, but she hoped the new owner wouldn’t just tear it down.

Her last stop was the living room. She flicked on the overhead light and stood in the entrance, picturing it the way the room had looked the many times she and her grandmother had sat and visited there. Grandma’s La-Z-Boy was always to the right of the big window. Next to it was the “magic” table and on the other side was the chair Skye always occupied.

Everything was gone now. The room had been painted only a few months earlier and the cream walls gleamed in unblemished splendor.

Whoa, what is this? Skye moved over to the window and looked at the wall underneath the sash. A small dark mark marred the plaster. It was only an inch and a half long and a half an inch wide, but to Skye it stood out as if it were delineated in neon.

She squatted next to it and looked all around, even checking the underside of the wooden sill. Nothing. Someone must have bumped it when they were moving out furniture yesterday.

A cloud covered the moon and darkness enveloped her as Skye left the house. No one had replaced the broken outside light and suddenly she felt as if she were being watched. She ran to the Buick, unlocked the door, and jumped inside. She hit the lock buttons as quickly as she was able.

On the drive home, Skye constantly checked the rearview mirror, sure she was being followed, but there were no other vehicles on the road. At least none trailing her with their headlights on.

By the time she got to her cottage, Skye had convinced herself that it was all in her imagination. There had been no one watching at her grandmother’s and no one had followed her home. She was being silly.

Pushing her fear away, Skye opened the car door. After trying to lift both the Bible and the box, she decided to take one at a time—the heavier load first. The last thing she wanted was to drop the family Bible in the mud.

She heaved the box into her arms and fumbled her way inside. Bingo was waiting for her by the door and wound around her feet as she tried to walk through the foyer. She dropped the carton on the sofa, grabbed a letter opener from her desk, and cut through the packing tape. Prying open one flap, she saw an issue of Modern Maturity. All that trouble for another box of old magazines.

Disappointed, Skye started back to the Buick. She was halfway down the front sidewalk when she noticed that someone had the car door open and was reaching into the vehicle’s backseat. A sound of protest escaped Skye’s throat and the figure straightened, clutching something to its chest.

The intruder stared at Skye through the slits of a ski mask. The eyes glittered with hatred, and for a moment Skye thought they looked familiar, but before she could get a good look the trespasser whirled and raced down the driveway.

Skye ran to her car and looked inside. The Bible was gone. Great, now her relatives had another transgression to blame her for. She had lost the family Bible. She had to get it back. The thief was tall, well muscled, and ran with an athletic grace. Skye knew she’d never catch up on foot.

She jammed her hand in her pocket and came up with the car keys. In seconds she had jumped into the Buick and backed it out of the driveway. Skye headed toward town, the direction the robber had headed. There was no sign of the figure, and when she reached the crossroads she was stumped. The darkness made it impossible to see more than a few feet ahead of her. Which way had the intruder chosen? Probably neither. Most likely the invader had left the road and was long gone. She had blown her one chance to retrieve the Bible.

As Skye pulled back into her driveway, she realized how foolish she had been to pursue the thief. She was alone and vulnerable. This thought made her hurry inside and lock the door. Her father had given her a shotgun after her windows had been broken. She had hidden it in the seat of the hall bench. Heart pounding, she grabbed the weapon, leaned against the foyer wall, and thumbed the gun’s release. The barrels and stock separated. Two red shells rested in the barrels. It was loaded and ready to go. All those sessions with Jed and Vince shooting tin cans had taught her all she needed to know about firing a shotgun.

Skye woke to Bingo’s yowls. He was standing on her chest. She had fallen asleep on the couch after sitting there for hours mentally replaying the night’s events and clutching the shotgun. Bingo continued to vocalize until she got up. The fur on his back stood up in a ridge down his spine. His tail twitched and his ears were moving like radar dishes.

She followed him to the foyer. Skye kept her body against the wall and peeked out the small pane in the door. A shadowy figure was trying to open the Buick’s trunk.

Gripping the shotgun, Skye flipped on the porch light. The intruder froze and looked toward the house. It was the same figure as before. Skye ducked back inside. For a second she thought the person was going to charge the cottage, but instead it ran into the trees.

Skye sank onto the couch and waited for her heart to regain its normal rhythm. This was an interesting development. The Bible must not have been what the intruder was after. What could the burglar want?

If the robber had followed her, and watched her at her grandmother’s, then Skye was probably seen carrying two items to her car. Maybe the intruder didn’t even know what it was looking for, but couldn’t afford to have Skye stumble across something incriminating by accident. Possibly the person wanted both items, no matter what they were.

Her gaze fell on the box full of magazines. I’d better look through these right away. She reached for the carton, pulled it across the coffee table toward her, and tipped it over. At first a few magazines fluttered to the floor, then a lifetime’s worth of snapshots spilled out.

Questions raced through her mind. Was it significant that these particular pictures had been saved? Who had saved them—Antonia, May, or maybe one of her siblings? Were they stored and forgotten or were they hidden? Skye had always found it odd that Antonia had so few photos of her children growing up. Had something happened and all snapshots been banished?

Skye knelt down near the heap of slick black-and-white images. They ranged in size from tiny one-by-one squares to a couple of eight-by-ten enlargements. Only a few were in color. Skye carefully separated a photo from the group. It showed Dante as a boy in a cowboy suit holding the reins of a pony. His smile was pure joy. When had he lost that emotion?

It took Skye several hours to sort through and examine the pictures from her grandmother’s box. It was nearly eight in the morning before she finished. In one pile she put pictures of people she recognized. In another, pictures with information written on the back. The last group contained photos of people she couldn’t identify. None seemed more recent than the early 1970s.

Skye put the unknown ones in a large manila envelope, and set them aside, intending to ask her mother to go through them. The other two batches she studied closely. Again she wondered if the person who had stolen the Bible had in fact been looking for the box of photos. And if so, which of the hundreds of pictures was the thief after?

She stood and stretched. Pins and needles shot up her legs from sitting on the floor.

Skye limped into the kitchen, fed Bingo, and made herself a cup of tea. What was her next move?

She took her mug into the bathroom and turned the shower on as hot as she could stand. After shedding her nightgown, she stepped into the stall.

Skye abruptly stopped lathering her hair with shampoo. A chill ran down her spine and she quickly rinsed out the suds. Someone is watching me right now. I can feel it.

Her eyes flew open and she spotted Bingo sitting on the bathmat scrutinizing her. He licked the crumbs of his breakfast off his whiskers and looked smug.

Once her breathing returned to normal, she asked, “If you’re so smart, why don’t you tell me who killed Grandma?”

Bingo blinked and lifted a paw for a wash.

After dressing, Skye gathered up the pictures and drove to her brother’s salon. She quickly told Vince what had happened and watched him lock the photos in his safe. She swore him to silence, promised a longer explanation later, and ran back to her car.

Next she headed to the police station to report the theft of the Bible. She knew she should call her parents, and probably Simon, to let them know what had happened, but there was nothing they could do except worry or tell her to stop trying to find Grandma’s killer. She didn’t need them to remind her that what she was doing was dangerous. It was her choice and her decision, nobody else’s.

CHAPTER 13

Skye and Trixie Went to Town, Riding in a Mustang

Two pieces of luck shortened her stop at the police station. Her mother wasn’t working and Wally was out on a call. Skye was able to convince Thea, the dispatcher, not to summon the chief and to allow Skye to fill out the paperwork herself. At the same time Skye wrote her mom a note and asked her to stop by Vince’s and look at the pictures to see if she recognized anyone.

It was a couple minutes before ten when Skye started down Trixie’s lane. By Scumble River standards, she was late. To most citizens ten o’clock really meant nine-forty-five. She had almost canceled her date with her friend, but realized she really needed to buy a dress for her grandmother’s funeral in two days.

The old farmhouse was in the process of being remodeled. The outside was covered with Tyvek material and huge holes in the front and sides were sealed with plastic. Skye picked her way carefully up the worn wooden steps. The porch had been stripped and a sander lay in a corner.

Before Skye could ring the bell, Trixie pulled open the unpainted door and tugged her inside. “What fun. I haven’t been shopping in ages. Are you looking for anything special? Do you want something to eat or drink before we go?”

Skye gave Trixie a quick hug. “I need an outfit for the funeral. And no thanks to the offer of refreshments. Let’s just get going before something else in my life blows up.”

“What are you talking about?” Trixie grabbed her purse from the newel post.

“I’ll tell you all about it in the car.” Skye nudged Trixie out the door.

“Okay, but I’m driving.” Trixie led the way to her Mustang convertible. “No offense, but that Buick of yours is pretty sad.”

“None taken. I’m just borrowing it till I get the insurance check.” Skye got into the passenger’s side and put on her seatbelt. As they roared toward Kankakee, she told her story, sometimes competing with the wind to be heard.

When Skye finished, Trixie said, “Wow. Do you think everything that’s been happening to you is being done by your grandma’s killer? Or maybe it’s some of those awful parents you had run-ins with?”

“Got me.” Skye shrugged. “Maybe both. I’m beginning to feel like the most hated person in Scumble River.”

“Well, then, shopping is just what you need.” Trixie flashed an impish grin. “I know maxing out my credit cards always makes me feel better.”

“I don’t know about that. I can max mine out at the gas station.”

“Want to stop at the mall first?” Trixie asked.

“Sounds good to me. Then let’s go to K’s Merchandise. I have got to get an answering machine.”

Shopping for clothing was tricky. Skye needed Plus Sizes while Trixie required Petites. Except for the large department stores, few dress shops carried that combination of merchandise. They finally decided to alternate, one place for Trixie, then one for Skye.

Their first stop was Pretty Petite. Trixie held up a short red dress for Skye’s inspection.

“It looks like a long tank top. Isn’t it a bit . . . revealing?” Skye asked.

“Yep, it’s for our ninth anniversary. He won’t tell me where we’re going, just says to dress up.” Trixie held the garment against her body. It came to mid-thigh. “I’ve always wanted a sexy red dress.”

Skye nodded thoughtfully. “Why don’t you try it on? Take this dress, too.” She held up another dress with a flared skirt and triple spaghetti straps that crisscrossed in the back.

Trixie’s giggle could be heard clearly in the waiting area where Skye sat on an overstuffed chair.

Coming out from behind the oatmeal-colored curtain, Trixie twirled in front of Skye. “What do you think? I know I don’t have the cleavage, but can I get away with it?”

The front of the bodice hung loose, but the rest of the dress hugged Trixie’s small body.

“It looks okay, except for the bust.” Skye tilted her head. “Would you consider one of those Wonderbras to fill out the top a little?”

“Maybe. Let me try on the other dress and see if I have the same problem.”

“Go ahead. I’ll be right here.” Skye resumed reading. She always carried a book in her purse for anytime she had to wait.

The second dress fit without having to resort to unnatural means and Trixie bought it. As they strolled the mall, window shopping and gossiping, Skye began to relax.

They were nearing an escalator when Skye spotted her cousin Hugo’s wife, Victoria. Skye knew she had to be in her early thirties but she looked much younger. Smooth blond hair fell straight to the middle of her back and blue eyes shone from a sun-kissed complexion. She wore a short navy-and-white polka-dot slip dress over a slim, toned body.

Skye was filled with instant loathing, a deep mingling of envy, contempt, and self-pity. It wasn’t a feeling she enjoyed or was proud of.

She froze. Before she could decide what to do, Victoria looked around, then abruptly turned and walked rapidly in the other direction.

Skye grabbed Trixie and pointed at the retreating figure. “Do you remember my cousin Hugo?”

“Yes, good-looking, but a little too smooth?”

“Right, there goes his wife, Victoria. I wonder what she’s up to.”

“What do you mean?”

Skye described Victoria’s actions. “Maybe my imagination is running overtime, but it was almost as if she didn’t want to be seen, or saw someone she wanted to avoid.”

“Or maybe she just forgot something.” Trixie suggested.

“That’s probably it. I’m not too fond of her, so I was doubtlessly thinking the worst of her.” Skye sighed. “She’s hard to like.”

Trixie patted Skye’s arm. “I have heard her referred to around town as Mrs. Perfect and Queen Victoria.”

Skye nodded. “Yeah. I don’t think she has many friends. I should try again, I suppose. She is family.”

“Why is she so disliked? Is it just her incredible looks?”

“I’m sure that’s part of it, but everything she says has a barb attached. Sometimes it pinches right away. Sometimes it’s like a time bomb, waiting for the right moment to detonate.”

“And?”

“She’s materialistic and a snob and she’s raising her son, Prescott, to be just like her.” Skye looked in the direction Victoria had headed. “I can’t figure out how Hugo supports her in the manner she demands. You wouldn’t think selling cars would earn that much income.”

Skye sat back in the restaurant’s plush red velvet seat and sipped an iced tea. “I forgot to ask. Did you get the job at the high school?”

“Yes, they called this morning.” Trixie grinned.

“Great. We’ll be working together. Unless, of course, I’m fired by next year.” Skye felt her chest tighten as she said the words.

“I’m sure everything will be fine. You’ll come up with something that will satisfy the superintendent.”

Skye decided to change the subject. “What do you think of the restaurant?”

“Sort of elegant for the Kankakee I remember.”

“Don’t worry. Kankakee may now have Chez Philippe, but it still has a Farm and Fleet store, too.” Skye picked up the huge menu.

“What a relief. We wouldn’t want to have to run all the way to Ottawa for a Farm and Fleet fix. How would the citizens of Scumble River survive without it? Where would they get their clothes, candy, and car supplies?”

Skye snickered and added, “Don’t forget electronics, hunting equipment, and livestock needs.”

Giggling, Trixie added a few more essential items that could be purchased at the discount store.

“But I must admit,” Skye said, feeling forced to be honest, “I have found some nice brand-name clothes there and the prices are about thirty percent less than Carson’s or Field’s.”

“Me too,” Trixie confessed. “I just don’t normally admit where I got them.”

Both women were laughing so hard the waiter was forced to raise his voice. “Good afternoon, ladies. Are you ready to order?”

They agreed to share a plate of tomato basil bruschetta. For her main course Trixie ordered a steak sandwich with Gorgonzola butter and fries. Skye decided on the seafood salad.

When the waiter finished the grand production of writing down their order and left, Skye asked, “Have you worked in a school before?”

“No, I just got my certification. I worked in a public library for a while as a clerk.”

“Schools are a different situation. I’ve been trying to figure out what it is that makes things so intense.” Skye paused to allow their appetizer to be served. “The special education coordinator at my last school used to blame it on so many women having PMS at the same time. His other favorite excuse was ‘mental pause,’ as he so charmingly called the change of life.”

“What a jerk. I’ll bet you didn’t let him get away with crap like that.” Trixie scooped up a piece of toasted bread with chopped tomato and basil sprinkled on top.

Skye smiled thinly, but didn’t offer that that same man had fired her. “The best explanation I have so far is that no matter what we do it’s eighty percent odds that we’ll be in trouble with either a parent or an administrator.”

“That sounds a little dramatic.”

“Not at all. If you call a student for doing something wrong, six out of ten parents will argue about your decision. On the other hand, if you let something pass to give a kid a chance to straighten up, some other child will tell his folks, who then will complain to the superintendent.”

“Sounds rough.”

“And that doesn’t even touch my job. Almost everything I have to say upsets someone. If I don’t find a referred student eligible for services, the teacher is mad at me. If I do find a handicapping condition, the parent is upset. And if I can’t tell and need additional tests, the administration is irritated.”

“Hard to believe anyone wants to be a school psychologist.”

“Believe me, they don’t tell you this stuff in graduate school, and even in your internship you are rarely made aware of the everyday realities of the job.” Skye moved her hands out of the way, allowing the waiter to center her salad in front of her.

The women turned back to their previous topic.

Trixie asked, “Has the staff of the high school been friendly to you?”

“In their own way.” Skye speared a shrimp, a piece of lettuce, and a black olive. “The thing with my job is that I only pop in and out of the building, and rarely have a chance to socialize in the lounge. Even when I do, I think I make a lot of them uncomfortable because they think I’m analyzing everything they say and do.”

“I suppose you get that a lot as a psychologist.”

Skye shrugged. “The other weird thing is that there are still teachers working there who taught us.”

Trixie shuddered. “Not Mr. Zullo? His freshman English was the worst class I’ve ever been in.”

“Yep, he’s still there. He’s only in his fifties.”

“Yuck. He always made me feel so uncomfortable. He stood too close, and I know he was trying to look up my skirt or down my blouse.”

“Yeah, me too. I observed his class a couple of times.”

“Did you see anything?”

“He’s not going to make any moves on the girls while I’m watching.”

“Did you talk to the principal?”

“Homer?” Skye shook her head. “What’s the use? Besides, I have no proof.”

Trixie scowled. “You need to be invisible.”

Skye opened her mouth, but a commotion at the door drew her attention. Her cousin Hugo, his wife, Victoria, and a familiar looking middle-aged man were standing at the maître d’s podium.

Skye’s eyebrows shot into her hairline. Could her cousins’ dining companion really be who she thought he was? She deliberately dropped her napkin so she could take a good look at the man without anyone noticing.

Victoria’s voice could be heard clearly even under the table. “What is the problem? You have our reservation; I can see our name written in your book.” She stabbed the ledger with a gleaming fingernail the shape of a dagger.

“But, madame, the booth you requested is still occupied. If you insist on that particular spot you must wait. I could seat you elsewhere immediately.” Philippe’s French accent thickened.

Victoria crossed her arms and turned to Hugo. “Do something, sugar. I want ‘our’ table.”

Hugo glanced at the man, who was now standing a little apart from them, and patted Victoria’s arm. “Sure thing, sweetheart.”

Slipping his wallet from his jacket pocket, Hugo selected a bill and approached the restaurant owner. They spoke in whispers for a moment. Philippe finally accepted the money and walked over to a banquette in the back of the room. It was occupied by two women sipping after-dinner coffee and chatting.

He bent low and whispered to one of the women. She listened, consulted with her friend, and nodded. The women got up and moved toward the bar. A busboy appeared instantly and cleared the table, resetting it with fresh linens.

Victoria’s scowl turned to a dazzling smile as she was seated between the two men.

As soon as the three disappeared behind huge menus, Skye leaned over to Trixie and whispered, “Do you know who that guy with Hugo and Victoria is?”

Trixie shrugged. “He does look sort of familiar, but I can’t put a name to him. Why?”

“Because if he’s who I think he is, I now have a plausible suspect in my grandmother’s murder.”

CHAPTER 14

Ashes to Ashes, We All Fall Down

The next day the weather took a turn for the worse. It was hot and humid, and afternoon clouds portended a storm could break loose at any moment. Skye stood with her parents and Vince in the mirrored foyer of the Reid Funeral Home, waiting to view her grandmother’s body. She tugged at her navy linen suit, which suddenly felt a size too small. Even the strand of pearls around her neck felt as if they had shrunk. The building was supposed to be air conditioned, but too many people crowded in too small a space had defeated even the strongest equipment.

She followed the pull of Vince’s hand through the double doors. It was finally their turn to enter. As the eldest, Uncle Dante and his family had been first. Skye could still hear Aunt Mona muttering from the bottom of the stairs about being last. Minnie and her crew were caught in the middle, as usual.

At first the blast of cool air was a welcome relief, but the subtle odor of death beneath that of the flowers made Skye want to turn and run away. Instead, she drew a ragged breath and turned right, walking toward the front of the room. The bronze casket stood beneath a soft pink spotlight. Huge floral displays on wire stands ranged along both sides.

May was on the kneeler, head bent in prayer. Not being Catholic, Jed stood behind her, his hands folded. Vince guided Skye to their mother’s side and she knelt.

Skye swallowed hard and looked at the wrinkled face of her grandmother. Antonia’s nimbus of white hair was artfully arranged and her features looked peaceful. An emerald-green rosary was entwined in her fingers.

Skye stood, allowing Vince to take her place. She examined the cards on the flowers and plants, and was astonished at the number of arrangements.

Vince and May were finished and Skye rejoined her family as they stood in front of the coffin for a moment of silence. In that instant she vowed, Grandma, I will find out who did this to you. Even if it’s one of us, I know you’d want the guilty person to be punished.

May joined Dante in the line of cushioned chairs in front of the rows of folding chairs. Jed and Vince moved to the back of the room.

Skye looked for Simon. She wanted to run her theory about Hugo by him before she spoke to Hugo himself. Even though Simon rarely agreed with her, he almost always had a unique way of looking at matters that inevitably came in handy.

“So, when I saw Hugo and Victoria eating lunch with the guy from the Castleview housing development company, I knew who had killed Grandma and why.” Skye sat back in her chair.

Simon leaned forward. “Tell me again why Hugo killed your grandmother.”

They were in his office in the back of the funeral home. The door was tightly closed, but Skye still checked to make sure no one was listening. “Number one: Hugo lives far beyond his means, and if he cuts back I’m betting he’ll lose Victoria, not to mention his son.”

“Okay, say we accept that premise even though you don’t have proof. After all, Hugo could make a lot more selling cars than you think. Or maybe Victoria doesn’t care as much about money as she seems to.”

Skye choked on a mouthful of tea. “Right, and Scumble River is the center of culture and elegance.”

He looked at her steadily for a moment. “Ready to go on?” She nodded. “Fine. Even agreeing to all the previous assumptions, how can you get from a simple lunch to this Castleview fellow buying your grandmother’s farm for a housing development?”

“Well . . .”

“Besides, didn’t you tell me that your Uncle Dante controls the trust? How could Hugo benefit? The money would go to the children, not the grandchildren.”

“There are lots of ways around a thing like that. Dante could be in on it, the trust could be a lot less airtight than we think, or . . . Hugo may have figured a way around those problems.”

“Maybe. But this is a long way from proof.”

“I’m going to talk to Hugo today. See if he makes any slips.”

“You’d better be extremely careful. If, and I do mean if, Hugo is the killer, it would be very dangerous for him to know you’re onto him.”

Skye bounced up from the chair and faced Simon. “Gee, thanks, I was going to go straight up to him, and tell him I knew what he was up to and that he was the killer. Your way sounds so much better.”

“You’ve always got a comeback, don’t you?” Simon drew her into his arms and whispered against her lips: “So how about an answer to my question?”

Skye gave him a quick kiss, wiggled out of his arms, and slipped out the door without replying.

Back in the visitation parlor, Skye sat down on the folding chair vacated moments earlier by Victoria. She could still smell the other woman’s Obsession.

Leaning close to Hugo, she spoke softly, “Hi, how you doing?”

He gave her a startled glance and pulled slightly away. “Fine. Just fine.”

“Sure is something about Grandma. I always thought she’d just go in her sleep. Hard to believe someone killed her.”

Glancing nervously around, Hugo whispered, “We shouldn’t talk about that now. Someone might hear us.”

“Oh, but we don’t have anything to hide, right?”

“No, no of course not. Don’t be ridiculous.” He mopped his forehead with a large white handkerchief. “It’s just not very respectful.”

“You’re probably right.” Skye forced herself to agree with him. “So, how’s the family? Prescott is in third grade now, right?”

Hugo beamed. “Yes, and then there is talk of double promoting him. We’re waiting for the results of this last year’s achievement test.”

“You must be very proud.” Skye turned slightly. “He’s in the Brooklyn School District, right? You live across the county line.”

“Right. But he goes to a private school in Kankakee.”

“Wow, that must be expensive. Not to mention a long ride. Do they send a bus?”

“It’s costly, but Victoria, I mean, we feel it is money well spent. If for no other reason than the connections he can make.” Hugo took a lighter from his pocket and began sliding it through his fingers. “There are kids at Saint Elmo’s from the best families in a sixty-mile radius. You know, a lot of wealthy people from Chicago have moved out this way to get away from the . . . from the crime.”

“Yes, I recall.” He was speaking of white flight. Skye frowned, but decided if she wanted to get information from him it would be a mistake to tell him what she thought of his morals and values. “You must be a wonderful salesman. It’s hard to keep up with that type of crowd. Financially, I mean.”

“I make a good living.”

“But Victoria doesn’t work, does she?”

“She takes the occasional interior design job. We both agree that Prescott is her main occupation.”

“Well, selling cars must be better paying than I ever dreamed. Certainly better than being a school psychologist.” Skye laughed self-deprecatingly. “But almost anything pays better than that.”

Hugo smiled stiffly. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to step out and have a cigarette.”

He was gone before she could think of anything else to say.

Skye was writing her impressions of her meeting with Hugo in a little notebook when Victoria and Prescott sat down. She slapped the book closed as Victoria inclined her head in its direction.

“What are you writing?” she asked.

“Just my grocery list,” Skye lied without blinking. “Hugo went out for a smoke.”

“Filthy habit, but the poor dear needs something to help him relax.”

“Sounds like he works really hard.”

“Yes, he insists on making sure we live in the right style.”

“That’s a beautiful ring. Is it new?” Skye pointed to a huge ruby set in gold.

Victoria twisted it, catching the light. “Yes, I just got it yesterday. It’s three carats.”

“I was shopping yesterday too, but all I bought was an answering machine and a dress for the funeral tomorrow.” Skye tried to sound friendly.

“It was a gift.”

“From Hugo?”

“You could say that. At least indirectly.” Victoria suddenly seemed bored. “Excuse me, Prescott needs to leave for his violin lesson.”

Antonia had left instructions that the wake would be held for one day only, with visitation from one to four and seven to ten. The family took a break between afternoon and evening hours, gathering at May’s to eat some of the food that friends and neighbors had been dropping off for days. Many went to their own homes first to do some personal chores. Skye had stopped off at the cottage and taken care of Bingo’s needs.

When got to her parents’ house, she found her father leaning against the dog pen. Chocolate sat near the gate. Jed absently rubbed the lab’s ears.

“Hi, Dad.” Skye kissed his cheek. “What are you doing out here?”

“Chocolate was barking like crazy, and your mother sent me to quiet him down.”

“Was anything wrong?” Skye eyed the dog, who glowed with health.

“Nope, just wanted some attention.” Jed patted the dog’s chest.

“Bingo was a little squirrelly too. Poor thing. Going from spending every minute of every day with Grandma to catching a few hours with me when I’m home. He must be pretty confused and lonely.”

“Yeah, I’m sure no one thinks of the animals when they kill someone.” Jed gave Chocolate a final stroke. “Too bad Bingo can’t talk. He could probably tell us who the murderer is.”

Skye nodded. “He’s a pretty good watch cat. Yowled his head off when someone . . .”

“Someone what?”

“Came to the door selling magazine subscriptions.” There was no need to tell her parents about the Bible.

“Ah-huh.” Jed gave her the same skeptical look he used when she tried to explain getting home late from a date as a teenager. “Well, we’d better be getting inside before your ma’s sisters drive her crazy.” He paused. “They’re good people. They try real hard. Maybe too hard.”

Skye was surprised to hear her father make that kind of pronouncement. He wasn’t much of a talker and never seemed to have much to say about other people. She wondered if he was trying to tell her something.

They made their way into the house through the kitchen. Jed stopped to wash his hands at the half bath off the utility room.

May was at the kitchen sink with Aunt Minnie and Uncle Dante’s wife, Olive. Skye kissed her mother and said hi to her aunts.

May gestured for Skye to follow and led her to the other side of the room. She whispered, “I looked at those pictures in Vince’s safe. I wrote the names of anyone I recognized on the back. Why did you want me to see them?”

“I found them at Grandma’s and thought they’d be valuable if I ever get around to doing the family history.”

“Why do you need to keep them in Vince’s safe?”

Skye thought quickly. “In case of fire. I’d hate to lose them before I can make duplicates.”

May nodded, but looked puzzled.

Both the peninsula counter and the table were loaded with food. Jell-O molds nudged casserole dishes, while angel and devil’s food cakes fought the eternal battle of temptation.

Skye edged past the overflow and went through the arch into the living room. Uncle Dante had claimed her father’s favorite lounger, where he sat like Napoléon with one hand scratching his belly and the other aiming the remote. A can of beer sat sweating on the oak end table, a white ring already forming on the wood.

Skye’s gaze swept the room. She was stunned. Uncle Emmett was eating a plate of ravioli, tomato sauce dripping on the white brocade of the love seat. Vince sat next to him gesturing with his fork, which held a bite of chocolate cake—crumbs flew in all directions.

She watched as, without noticing, Uncle Neal ground a cookie under his heel, leaving an oily patch on the russet carpet. Mona scooted closer to Neal on the sofa and tried to pick up the ginger snap’s remains in a paper napkin.

Food in the living room. Her mother never allowed them to eat there. The world as they knew it truly must be ending.

Skye aimed her question at Dante. It had only been a week and she was still angry about the essay contest, so she didn’t want to talk to Mona. She also wasn’t interested in joining the conversation about tractors that Emmett and Vince were having. “Where are Hugo and the twins?”

Not turning from the television screen, Dante said, “Ask Olive.”

Instead Skye headed for the den, a spare bedroom that her parents had converted by adding a love seat, armchair, and television. On her way she fixed herself a plate of food and grabbed the latest mystery from her purse.

It crossed her mind that this might be a good opportunity to talk to some of her relatives about her grandmother’s death, but she was too tired to do a good job. Grief and several nights of just a few hours of sleep had caught up with her. One thing she had learned as a psychologist was that if she didn’t feel good physically, she tended to make stupid mistakes mentally.

So, instead of pressing on with her investigation she set up a TV tray by the small sofa, kicked off her shoes, and snuggled into the corner. Selecting a carrot spear from her dish, she settled in to read.

Skye half heard the twins and their families arrive a little while later. By the time Hugo and Victoria made their appearance, it barely registered. Skye was deep into the fictional world of the story when the den door was eased open and Aunt Minnie slipped in.

Skye reluctantly put her book aside. “Hi. What’s up?”

“Sorry, I didn’t know you were in here. I just wanted to rest a bit before going back to the funeral home. It’s already past six.”

“Have a seat. Did you get anything to eat? How about a cup of coffee?” Skye pushed her tray away.

Minnie sat gingerly on the chair. “I nibbled while we put things away. I don’t eat much anymore.”

Skye looked from her aunt’s plump figure to her own and wondered about genetics.

“How about some coffee then?” Skye slid her feet back into her navy pumps.

“That would be nice, but I can get it.” Minnie tried to get up.

Skye beat her to the door. “Sit down. I want another glass of Diet Coke anyway.”

When Skye returned with the drinks, she found her aunt with her eyes closed. She set the cup and glass on the tray between them, and curled back up on the love seat.

“I’m not asleep.” Minnie stretched and reached for the coffee.

“This whole thing must be a real strain on you. I know you spent more time taking care of Grandma than anyone else.” Skye eased her way into the topic she was interested in pursuing.

“I never begrudged Mom the attention.”

“Of course not. Everyone said how devoted you were.” Skye swirled the ice cubes in her glass. “Still, it had to be hard.”

“A little. Mom didn’t like to acknowledge that she needed help.”

“It must have been tough having to be there three times a day every day to make her meals.”

“The others wanted to let the housekeeper do it all, but I knew she wouldn’t eat right if we let that foreign woman fix her food.”

“Really? You didn’t think Mrs. J did a good job?” Skye leaned forward.

“No. She refused to dust and run the sweeper every day. She would only clean once a week.” Minnie’s cheeks were pink and her eyes had shed their dull look. “She wanted us to put in a dishwasher.”

“Grandma wouldn’t have liked that.”

“No, but she only complained to me. I’d tell May and Mona, and then Mom would say I had gotten what she said wrong.” Minnie sat back and ran a hand over her eyes. “I tried so hard to please her and never could.”

“I’m sure that’s not true. But it would be hard to think that’s the way she felt about you.” Skye patted her aunt’s hand and silently asked her grandmother’s forgiveness for lying about her. “I remember Grandma saying you were the one she could depend on.”

“You know, Mona and Dante treated her like a child and she never seemed to resent them. And May treated her so casually and still was her obvious favorite.” Minnie sniffed and wiped her nose with the paper napkin from the tray. “I must admit sometimes I resented all the time I spent trying to be a good daughter and not getting anything back.”

“That would be hard to take.” Skye knew how fragile her aunt’s mental health was and was reluctant to push her. Still, she had to find out if Minnie was the one who killed her grandmother. She tried to be as gentle as possible. “It sounds as if you’re saying it felt like she was throwing all your love and attention back in your face.”

Minnie didn’t answer.

Skye took a breath and silently apologized to her aunt. If Minnie was innocent, this was an awful thing to say, but if she was guilty, Skye couldn’t let her get away with murder. “It must have been a relief, almost, when Grandma died.”

Minnie shot out of her chair and threw the door open, banging it against the wall. Her normally soft voice shrieked over her shoulder. “I don’t know what you mean. I loved my mother and she loved me. I didn’t want her dead.”

People gathered from different parts of the house. The twins surrounded their mother and led her off into one of the bedrooms. May shot Skye a deadly look from the sink, while everyone else tried to pretend that nothing unusual had happened.

Vince went over to Skye. “I shouldn’t have pressed her so hard,” she admitted, whispering. “This could be the thing that pushes Aunt Minnie around the bend.”

He put his arm around her shoulder. “Don’t blame yourself. She’s had that turn signal on for twenty years.”

CHAPTER 15

Roses Are Red, Lies Are Yellow

Wednesday, the day after the wake, Skye met her parents and Vince at the Reid Funeral Home and rode with them to the church. Saint Francis Catholic Church had been built back when Scumble River was first established in the 1850s. It towered above the other buildings, with walls clad in crumbling brown brick and faded gray concrete overhangs.

Almost a third of Scumble River’s population was Catholic, so parking was always a problem, unless you were among the first fifty cars and secured a space in the small back lot. Later arrivals used the side streets, often angering residents whose driveways they blocked.

In front of the church there was room for three or four vehicles, depending on the size of the car and its owner’s skill in parking. During a funeral the hearse and limousine took up those spaces.

Jed parked in back and he, May, Vince, and Skye entered the church through the side door. They found seats in the second pew from the front and waited for Father Burns to begin.

Dante and his family occupied the first row. Minnie and her brood sat in back of the Denisons. Mona and Neal were once again last. Skye could hear Mona’s complaints from two rows away.

The priest finally started the Mass and they all rose. Skye found it difficult to concentrate on the words of the service. She squirmed and plucked at her clothes as the heat of many people crowded together added to the already uncomfortable interior temperature. Her eyes were continually drawn to the closed casket. It looked much too large for a person of her grandmother’s size.

Eventually Father Burns’s words penetrated Skye’s thoughts. “I could stand up here and tell you that Antonia Leofanti has gone home to be with our Father and is at peace with Him in His kingdom, because that is true.

“I could stand up here and tell you that Antonia Leofanti lived a long life and left a wonderful legacy of family and love. That too is true.

“But when someone, old or young, is ripped from this mortal coil by violence, the question then becomes: Do we seek an eye for an eye? Or do we turn the other cheek?”

Skye missed the rest of what the priest said. Her mind latched on to his question and refused to let go. Vengeance or forgiveness? It was a tough call, but perhaps simple justice was the answer. She had always believed that the consequences should fit the action.

After the funeral Mass ended, Skye followed her parents numbly down the aisle. May climbed into the limousine with her brother and sisters, and Vince rode with the other pallbearers, which left Skye and her father together for the trip to the cemetery.

As she slid onto the front seat of her parents’ white Oldsmobile, and Jed settled into the driver’s seat, Skye looked at her father’s expressionless face.

The air-conditioned interior was a relief and they drove in silence for a while. Jed switched on the radio, then turned it off almost immediately.

“Dad?”

“Mmm?”

“How mad at me is Mom?”

“Aw, she’s not mad. She just doesn’t like things to be stirred up.”

“I didn’t mean for Aunt Minnie to have such a hissy fit.”

“Well, she’s always been real high strung. She’s been having those spells of hers since she was a teenager. She didn’t even finish high school because she had some sort of breakdown her senior year.”

“I never knew that.” Skye turned to look at him. “What happened?”

“If I remember rightly, Antonia and Angelo sent her to visit some relatives somewhere.” Jed scratched his head. “Seems to me they had Mona go with her.”

“Relatives? See, that’s exactly why I was trying to get the family history from Grandma before she died. I didn’t know we had relatives anywhere else.” Skye straightened in her seat as they entered the cemetery.

The black wrought-iron gates that spelled out Scumble River Cemetery and the narrow, tree-lined road always sent Skye’s imagination down dark paths, and her thoughts turned to the idea of mortality.

The graveside service was mercifully short, considering the heat and humidity. Father Burns led them in a prayer and then Simon guided them back to their cars before lowering the casket.

Skye picked her way past the graves, stopping to examine a monument shaped like a regulation-sized La-Z-Boy. Mementos had been glued all around it. A football huddled near a beer can, and golf tees were heaped next to a videocassette. The coup de grâce was an ashtray fastened to the chair’s arm, a faux cigarette made to look as if smoke were rising from its tip.

Where else but Scumble River would they make a monument out of a man’s bad habits?

May and Vince had both elected to ride with Skye and Jed to the luncheon at the new church hall. They entered a large room with folding tables and chairs and plain white walls. Although not fancy, it was at least air conditioned. They were among the first to arrive.

Skye noticed her mother’s pallor and fetched her a glass of cold punch. “Here, Mom, you look as if you could use this.”

May downed the liquid in one gulp and handed the empty cup to Skye. “Thanks.”

The silent treatment. Skye hated when her mother stopped talking to her. Usually May never quit chattering, so when she spoke in single words, Skye knew she was in hot water.

“Look, Mom, I’m sorry about yesterday.”

“This isn’t the place to talk about it.” May spotted people beginning to arrive, and moved toward the door. She whispered over her shoulder, “Just stay out of trouble today.”

Skye was scanning the crowd for Vince when someone grabbed her arm from behind and yanked. She turned, swallowing a scream, when she saw her Uncle Dante.

He pulled her toward a door leading to the catechism classrooms. “I want to talk to you, young lady.”

Her stomach dropped. Short of creating a scene, Skye could see no way to break loose. “Let’s talk here. I was just going to get something to eat. We could sit together.”

Dante’s eyes narrowed, which caused them to all but disappear under his jutting brow. “Not in public.”

She had never seen her uncle like this. He dragged her out of the common area, and shoved her into a room decorated with children’s drawings of Jesus. Dante pushed her into a child-sized chair and pulled over the teacher’s chair for himself. “What do you think you’re doing questioning my son?”

“Questioning him? Me? I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She could almost make herself believe her own words, since her conversation with Hugo seemed years ago rather than yesterday afternoon.

“Don’t play dumb with me, Missy!” Dante roared. “You talked to both Hugo and Victoria about how much money they had.”

“It was just conversation. I hadn’t seen them in a long time and commented on how well they seem to be doing.” She rounded her eyes. “I had no idea a car salesman could make so much money.”

Dante puffed out his chest. “Hugo’s the best, and Prescott’s going to do even better.”

“Yes, that private school is certainly impressive.” Skye relaxed a little. She could almost rest her chin on her knees, the chair was so small. “Do you help them with tuition?”

Dante’s face turned an alarming shade of reddish-purple and his voice grew louder. “You don’t get it, do you? I’m telling you to lay off my family. Quit asking questions.”

Skye rose and started edging toward the door. “I’m just surprised you’d agree with Hugo.”

“About what?” Dante’s bulging brow wrinkled.

“About subdividing Grandma’s land instead of farming it.” With her hand on the knob she grew brave. “I mean, you were always the one who said if Grandma lived much longer, we’d have to start selling off the land to pay for her care, and it would be such a shame to lose it for farming.”

“Subdividing it? What are you talking about?” Dante seemed to notice for the first time that she wasn’t sitting any longer, and he started to lever himself off his seat.

“Didn’t Hugo tell you about his lunch with that guy from the Castleview housing development company?” Skye eased the door open.

Dante sank back into his chair. His answer was almost inaudible. “No, no he didn’t.”

That had certainly hit a chord. She’d never seen Dante lose his bluster so fast. As she left the room, Skye said over her shoulder, “I wonder what else he didn’t tell you.”

Skye saw the twins sitting together at a long empty table. From the debris surrounding them, she surmised that their children and spouses had already been and gone. She quickly took a glass of punch and made her way over to Ginger and Gillian.

“Mind if I join you?” she asked, hoping they weren’t too angry at her after the incident with their mother yesterday. She didn’t relish being kidnapped again, nor the idea of another five-mile hike home.

Ginger and Gillian paused in their conversation and nodded after a brief hesitation.

“How’s your mother? I’m sure sorry about yesterday.”

“Did you really accuse her of murdering Grandma?” Gillian asked.

“No! I just commented on how much work it had been for her to serve Grandma three meals a day, and that things would be easier for her now.”

Gillian pushed her dish away and sighed. “She’s okay. Something happens; then she’s fine. At least she didn’t have one of her spells.”

Her cousins were really being nice about yesterday’s incident. Maybe she had misjudged them. “Did her visit to Carle Clinic help with her spells?”

“Could be,” Ginger said. “You know Mama, we don’t discuss things like that.”

Before Skye could reply, two young boys came tearing around the table, chased by two little girls. The boys threw themselves at Ginger, screaming at the top of their lungs.

Skye was astounded when her cousin failed to respond. She neither scolded them for the commotion, nor checked to see if there really was a problem. Instead Ginger sat still while they swarmed over her, grabbing bits of food from various dishes.

The little girls scrambled up on chairs, their short party dresses exposing their thighs and underpants. They too were talking so loudly Skye thought her ears would start bleeding.

Finally, carrying the food they had liberated from their parents’ plates, the children ran off, scattering adults as they went.

Skye sat silently, amazed that neither parent had intervened. Ginger took a sip of coffee as if nothing had happened.

“What were we talking about?” Gillian broke off a piece of cookie and popped it into her mouth.

“Ah . . . Ah, your mom’s health. Do you know what’s wrong with her?”

“Well, part of it is she’s going through the change, so she’s embarrassed to talk about it.” Gillian drew circles on the white paper tablecloth with her damp cup.

“But menopause isn’t that big a deal anymore, is it? I thought they had a pretty safe and effective hormone therapy now.”

Ginger shrugged. “Mom doesn’t want to take drugs, so she’s having a rough time.”

“You girls can’t talk her into it?”

They both shook their heads.

Skye got up. “I’m going to get some water. You all want anything?”

“More coffee would be great. Cream and two sugars. Thanks.” Ginger handed Skye her cup.

When Skye returned, her cousins’ husbands had joined them. Both looked uncomfortable in their funeral clothes. Flip Allen, Ginger’s husband, was a big, hulking guy whose suit appeared to have been borrowed from his little brother. His wrists and ankles showed from their respective cuffs.

He was speaking as Skye slipped into her seat. “Geez, honey, me and the boys have been going fishing up north since before we got married. I can’t let them down. They count on my paying my part of the freight.”

Irvin Tubb, Gillian’s husband, joined in. He was short and round, as his name suggested. “Yah, we been doin’ this since high school. What’s the fuss this time?”

Gillian lowered her voice. “Money. We could use that money for other things. I need a new washer and dryer, Kristin has outgrown all her clothes, and I’m still waiting for you to pave the driveway.”

Ginger nodded. “Yeah, our kids need clothes too, and my van has just about had it. We can’t afford for you to go this year.”

Flip wrinkled his forehead. “Well, all right, but I thought you were getting a bunch of money when the old lady died.”

Irvin added, “Yeah, you two were always talkin’ about the expensive jewelry she had, and how you’d get a good price for it when she finally kicked off.”

“Why doncha say it a little louder?” Gillian sneered. “You idiot. Now Miss Smarty Pants over here will think we killed Grandma.”

The two men turned a dull shade of red and got up from the table.

Flip mumbled, “What the Christ. We can’t never do nothing right. Let’s get outta here.”

Irvin followed. “Yeah, okeydokey.”

Skye sat on a swing in the church playground and dangled her legs. Tears ran down her cheeks. She didn’t bother to wipe them off; after all, she had come outside to cry.

Laughter and loud voices could be heard from inside the hall. No one seemed to be mourning her grandmother.

Suddenly she was swept into a bear hug. “Honey, what are you doing out here all by yourself?”

Strong arms held her away so that intense blue eyes could stare into hers. Charlie didn’t give her a chance to reply. “I know how close you and Antonia were. But she lived a long life, and she wouldn’t want you to cry for her.”

“It’s not only Grandma’s death, it’s everything. As usual my life’s a mess. I thought as I got older, my life would settle down.” Skye sat back down on the swing.

“What’s the problem?” Charlie leaned forward, taking the chains in either hand. “If someone is giving you a hard time, why didn’t you come to me?”

“Oh, Uncle Charlie, it’s not always something you can fix.”

“Tell me anyway.” Charlie released the links, crossed his arms, and planted his feet firmly in the gravel.

“I don’t know where to start.” Skye swung back and forth, hoping Charlie would drop the subject.

He gazed at her steadily. “The beginning is always a good place.”

“Okay. Overlooking the fact that my grandmother was murdered, and I’m pretty sure a family member did it, I’m also having trouble with my job, my love life, and someone who’s playing pranks on me.”

“Well, Antonia’s murderer will be found and if it’s a relative, it’s better to know about that person rather than have them in the bosom of your family ready to strike at any time.”

“Maybe, but Uncle Dante is in such a state he sort of scares me.”

“Why?” Charlie leaned forward, his forehead lined.

After Skye told him about being dragged into the classroom and forced to remain against her will, a stream of obscenities erupted from Charlie. He ended his tirade with, “Don’t you worry about Dante. He’s just a moron studying to be an idiot.”

Skye giggled. “Yeah, and those are pretty much his good points.” She felt better, having told Charlie. At least if someone hurt her, Charlie knew that Dante had threatened her.

“Now, what’s up with your job?” Charlie moved on to her next dilemma.

She cursed herself. Skye hadn’t intended to tell Charlie about that. She didn’t want him pulling any more strings on her behalf. “Oh, that’s not much of anything. A few angry parents at the end of the school year, that’s all. It’s taken care of.”

“I heard about your tires and windows. Has there been anything else?”

“Someone stole something from my car while it was parked in my own driveway.”

“I was talking to Jed and we think you need an alarm at your house and on your car. You’re isolated. It’s an invitation for trouble.” Charlie took a toothpick from his pocket and stuck it in his mouth. “I talked to a security company, and they’re going to come out day after tomorrow.”

She didn’t bother to remind him that her tires had been slit while she was at her grandmother’s, surrounded by people. Instead she said, “I can’t afford it and you are not paying for it. Besides, I’d have to check with my land-lords before installing something like that on their property.”

“But—”

“No buts; case closed.” Skye gave him a stern look.

He finally broke eye contact. “Maybe later then. Now, what’s wrong with your love life?” Charlie drew himself up to his full height. “If Simon is pressuring you, I can take care of that.”

“Thanks, but that won’t be necessary.” Skye debated whether to confide in Charlie. “The thing is, he’s a lot more certain about his feelings than I am about mine. He wants our relationship to be more intimate and committed. I’m just not sure what I want yet.”

To her surprise, Charlie didn’t yell at her for blowing her chance at an eligible bachelor. Instead he said, “Is there someone else?”

Skye shrugged, her cheeks reddened. “Maybe. No. I don’t know.”

“Keep seeing Simon as long as he’s willing to stick to your terms. When he’s not willing anymore, then you’ll have to decide.”

“Skye, yoo-hoo Skye, over here.” A loud, demanding voice rang out when Skye reentered the parish hall looking for her parents.

Mona was sitting with her husband and Father Burns.

“Yes, Aunt Mona?” Skye presented herself at their table.

“Sit down, dear. Neal and Father want to talk to you.” Mona gestured to a chair opposite them.

“You know, I was just looking for my folks. Maybe we could chat later.”

“This will only take a few moments.” Mona’s voice was lined with steel.

Sighing, Skye complied with her aunt’s demand. “Yes, Father? Uncle Neal?”

A pained expression crossed the priest’s face. “Skye, it really could wait, but I’m afraid your aunt and uncle are quite persuasive.”

“Yes, they are.”

“It’s about you joining the church’s Young Advocates group.”

“I’ve never heard of them.”

Father Burns’ opened his mouth to explain further, but before he could speak a voice screamed, echoing across the dining area. “Help! Help! Mom’s dying.”

CHAPTER 16

See, Saw, May’s Law

Stunned silence filled the church hall. Ginger appeared at the entrance of the banquet room, crying, and Father Burns headed toward her. As Skye ran after the priest, she yelled to Neal, “Call 911.”

Mona followed Skye toward the ladies’ room, but edged in front of her at the door. Skye stepped over the threshold just in time to see Mona shove Gillian aside and bend over Minnie’s body.

Water dripped from the pipe under the sink, making the gray tile floor appear slimy. The smell of ammonia and mold was overpowering. Minnie lay facedown with her arms over her head but bent at the elbow. Her flowered dress had crept up, revealing a white slip and gartered hose. Small blue pills were strewn near her head and hands.

Skye tried to kneel beside her aunt. “I’ve had first aid training; let me take a look.”

Mona thrust her away. “Haven’t you done enough? This is all your fault.”

“Huh?” Skye rocked back on her heels, nearly falling. “What are you talking about?”

“If you hadn’t been grilling Mona yesterday, she wouldn’t have tried to kill herself today.”

Gillian shouldered her aunt aside. “What are you saying? Mom didn’t try to commit suicide.”

Mona put an arm around her niece and pointed with the other hand. “See those pills?”

All three women stared at the tiny blue tablets scattered near Minnie’s hand.

Skye parked the Buick outside the police station, but made no move to get out of the vehicle. Pictures of Minnie lying on the bathroom floor played in an endless loop in her head. Even her morning swim hadn’t been able to distract her from that memory. Intellectually she knew that no one could cause another person to kill herself. But emotionally, she was having difficulty believing it. And even if she wasn’t the cause, she should have been able to see how desperately unhappy her aunt was, and insisted that she get help.

She finally forced herself out of the car and went into the building. The portable radio on a shelf behind May’s head blared out a baseball game. When Skye entered, the sportscaster was announcing the score: “Cubs 2, Brewers 11.”

May’s shoulders sagged and she turned the volume down.

To her mother’s back Skye said, “You know, Mom, rooting for the Cubs is like rooting for Bangladesh in a food fight.”

“I told you not to come here.” May didn’t turn around or react to Skye’s joke.

“Don’t be mad, Mom. I really need to talk to you.” Skye reached to buzz herself past the locked door.

“Stop that.” May slapped her hand away from the button. “Go home and quit causing trouble. I’m not mad. I’m hurt that you could think those awful things about my brother and sisters.”

“I’m sorry.” Skye tried once again to release the door lock.

“Fine, go home and mind your own business.” May kept a wary eye on the latch.

“I can’t. I can’t let the killer get away with it. Is that what you want?”

“Maybe.” A tear rolled down May’s cheek. “Remember, we are talking about my brother and sisters. Remember how you felt last year when Vince was accused of murder.”

“I am sorry, Mom.” Skye tried to hug her but the counter between them was too wide.

Wiping away the drop, May said, “Then quit bothering everyone. Let Wally handle the investigation.”

“He’s happy I’m helping.”

“Wally can figure it out without you.” May paused to answer a call, then continued. “He seemed real excited when he got the toxicology results this morning.”

“Oh?” Skye hoped her mother would elaborate.

“Yeah, seems they figured out what the poison was.” May made a note in the log.

“And?” Skye tried to keep her voice even.

“Well, he didn’t tell me what it was.”

“But you peeked at the report, didn’t you?” Skye tried to sound as if she didn’t care about the answer.

“I might have noticed something when I was doing some other filing.”

“So?”

“Something like ‘jack trophy kirk’s ass.’ I can’t pronounce it.”

“Why did it take so long to find out the type of poison? The autopsy has been done for days.”

“It has something to do with how many kinds of poisons there are to check for, how long the tests themselves take, and how much of a priority our sample is—” May was interrupted once again by the phone.

Skye took the opportunity presented by May’s distraction to make a note of the toxin so she could try to look it up at the library later.

May hung up and turned back to Skye. “That was Gillian. The doctors have decided to keep Minnie in the hospital for a while.”

“But I thought she was okay after they pumped her stomach last night.”

“Minnie refuses to admit she took the pills. She says she did not try to commit suicide. So they’re keeping her for psychiatric observation.” May uttered the last two words with great difficulty.

The women were silent for a while. The only noise in the station was the static of the radios.

Finally, Skye said, “You know, Mom, it’s possible Aunt Minnie killed Grandma, and then couldn’t stand the guilt, so she tried to kill herself.”

Tears overflowed May’s eyes. “I’m afraid that’s what everyone is going to think, but I just can’t picture Minnie being able to do it.”

“I know what you mean. She’s usually so indecisive. But if she’s emotionally disturbed, who knows what she’s capable of doing?” Skye handed her mother a tissue.

“Going through the change has been real rough on her, ’cause she won’t take the medicine her doctor gave her. I’ve been begging her to at least take the capsules to help her sleep, but she refuses to take anything at all.” May paused, then added softly, “I guess she took those sleeping pills yesterday though.”

“The twins told me she didn’t want to take drugs.” Skye’s face took on a faraway expression.

“What are you thinking?” May asked. “You look as confused as a cow on AstroTurf.”

“If she wouldn’t take hormones for her menopausal symptoms, would she take pills to commit suicide?”

May stood up. “No. She’s always hated taking medicine. She usually wouldn’t even fill the prescriptions.”

“Mom, this could mean that Aunt Minnie is telling the truth. Maybe she didn’t try to kill herself. Maybe someone tried to kill her.”

“Who would want to kill Minnie?” May sat back down.

“The same person who murdered Grandma. The real killer could be trying to throw suspicion on Minnie.” Skye was scribbling furiously in her notebook. “Call Wally right now. He’s got to get Aunt Minnie some protection, or the next time she might not make it.”

Skye and May sat across from the police chief in the combination coffee and interrogation room. Both women had told their stories, and he was now asking questions.

“Let me get this straight. You think Minnie did not attempt suicide? Instead you think someone tried to kill her?”

“Well, either tried to kill her or make her look like Grandma’s murderer.” Skye flipped open her notebook. “I’ve tried to put my reasons in order.”

Wally made a go-ahead gesture with his hand.

“Okay. First, this is a woman who will not take medicine. She feels that all drugs are bad. Even ones her doctors tell her to take.” Wally opened his mouth, but Skye continued. “Also, she says she didn’t take them. I’ve heard of people claiming an attempt was an accident, but not denying any part of it.”

“Look, it’s just as possible she overcame her dislike of pills and is embarrassed to admit it.” Wally looked at each woman in turn. “Isn’t it?”

“Anything’s possible,” Skye answered for both of them. “Did they find the bottle when they searched the church bathroom?”

“No.” Wally looked through the file. “No container on the scene or on her person.”

“Don’t you find that odd?” Skye asked. “What did she do, carry the pills loose in her purse?”

He shrugged.

“Another thing, when they pumped her stomach, could they tell if she had swallowed the pills whole, or were they added to something she ate or drank?” Skye paused and thought. “Too bad all the dishes will have been washed or disposed of since yesterday.”

“Okay, I’ll check into it, but I can’t afford to have someone guard her door until we have more evidence.” Wally wrote in his own notebook. “The best I can do is let the hospital know to keep an eye out.”

Skye stopped herself from making a sarcastic comment about closing the barn door when it was too late to do any good. “One more thing.”

He was already walking down the hall.

“Could you make sure the hospital doesn’t let anyone visit her unaccompanied?” Skye yelled.

His voice floated back. “Yeah, fine, okay.”

Skye turned to her mom. “Do you still want me to quit bothering everyone with my questions?” When May didn’t answer, Skye added, “If the murderer isn’t found soon, he may go after Aunt Minnie again.”

“Maybe, but I’m worried that if you keep poking your nose in where it doesn’t belong, you might be next.”

Looking around at the chaos inside her cottage Skye could almost believe it had been vandalized again, except she knew she had done it all herself. Bingo didn’t seem to care. He was nestled among the dirty clothes spilling from the overfull hamper.

After changing to old jean shorts and a ragged T-shirt, Skye started in on the mess. First, she stripped the bed and dumped the sheets in the washer. Remaking the bed with fresh linens was a challenge due to Bingo’s desire to play hide-and-seek among the covers.

Next, she sorted laundry and cleaned the bathrooms. Bingo followed her every move, appearing to think she was a giant mouse he was stalking.

Since Skye rarely cooked, the kitchen took only a few minutes to wipe down. This left the great room. She was looking for the furniture polish when the doorbell rang.

Bingo beat her to the entry and was pacing impatiently when she arrived. Peeking through the side window, Skye groaned.

She reluctantly opened the door. “Hi, Simon. Sorry I’m such a mess. I was just cleaning. You look awfully spiffy for a Thursday afternoon.”

“Thanks, I’ve got a funeral at one. I thought maybe you’d be free for lunch now that school’s out.” Simon walked into the foyer.

“Gee, I’d love to but, as I said, I’m hardly dressed to go out.” Skye led the way into the great room.

“Well, I’m sure no one at McDonald’s would mind how you’re dressed.” Simon sat beside her on the couch.

“How about I make us salad and soup right here?”

“I’d really like to take you out, but if that’s your best offer, I accept.” Simon loosened his tie, took off his suit jacket, and scooted closer to her.

“Ah, good, just let me wash up a little, and I’ll get started on lunch.” Skye retreated into her bedroom and firmly closed the door.

She reemerged in ten minutes, having washed her face, changed tops, and combed her hair. Simon was in the kitchen, looking into an open cupboard. Bingo was twining around his legs, meowing.

“Looks like it’s time for a visit to the Super Value.” Simon gestured to the empty shelves.

“Yeah, I’ve gotten a little behind with my housekeeping chores.” She opened the refrigerator and pulled out a bag of salad and a bottle of dressing. “Do you see any soup?”

Simon showed her two cans. “Tomato or chicken noodle?”

“You choose. The saucepans are to the left of the stove on the bottom.” Skye grabbed bowls, napkins, and flatware. “I hear the final tox screen came in on Grandma. What was used to poison her?”

“You know I can’t tell you that. How did you know about it anyway?”

She mimicked him: “You know I can’t tell you that.”

“Look, let’s have a nice lunch without talking about murder.” Simon rummaged among the shelves until he found a tray.

“Fine.” Skye watched Simon load the tray with their bowls. She added glasses of soda, then led the way to the patio.

They’d finished eating and were laughing about their latest attempt to teach another couple to play bridge when the doorbell rang.

“Were you expecting anyone?”

She shook her head and made her way through the house to the foyer. The chief of police stood in a halo of sunlight on her front steps. The early afternoon sun glinted on his gold badge.

Skye wondered briefly if he was the angel of death. “Come on in, Wally. Nothing wrong I hope.”

“No, just thought I’d drop by and talk to you about our conversation this morning. Maybe over lunch, if you haven’t eaten.”

Before Skye could respond, Simon walked in off the patio.

“What brings you here, Chief?” He casually draped his arm around Skye’s shoulders.

“Following up a lead Skye and I came up with this morning.”

“Oh?” Simon narrowed his eyes.

“Yep.” Wally smiled slightly.

Both men turned to Skye, who frantically searched her mind for something to say.

“Gee, Wally, Simon and I just had lunch, and he has to get going.” She glanced at her watch. “Oh, my, it’s already twelve-thirty and I know you like to be there to let the family in early.”

Simon glowered as he shrugged into his jacket and straightened his tie. “I’ll call you tonight after the services.” He kissed her cheek and left.

“He didn’t seem happy to see me here,” Wally said.

“Probably just in a hurry.” With a sense of déjà vu, Skye led the way into the great room and sat down.

Wally joined her couch and opened up his notebook. “The hospital has agreed to limit visitors to your aunt.”

“But no guard, right?” When he nodded she continued, “So anyone could still sneak in and kill her.”

“It’s the best I can do without some proof.” Wally’s eyes never left Skye’s face. “At least the psych ward is a lot more secure than the others.”

Skye forced herself not to resort to sarcasm. This wasn’t Wally’s fault. “Did you find out about her stomach contents?”

“No pill fragments. They were probably crushed into some food or drink.”

“And that isn’t enough proof for you?” she asked.

“No. If she was as antimedication as you say, it’s possible that was the only way she could force herself to take them.”

“Or, more likely, the only way someone could slip them to her.”

“I did go around and stop the trash from being removed from the church hall. Since you used mostly paper plates and cups, we might still find something. I sent it all to the lab.”

“If I had to guess, I’d pick the foam cups to test first. Aunt Minnie drinks lots of coffee with milk and sugar. That would be a good place to put the crushed pills.”

“I’ll let them know that.” He made a note. “Anything else?”

“Well, since you didn’t find a container, would it prove anything to you to test the inside of Aunt Minnie’s purse for residue?”

“You mean, would the absence of residue prove she didn’t take the pills?”

Skye nodded.

“No, negative evidence isn’t considered compelling.”

“Oh.” Skye turned and sat on one leg so she could face him. “Thanks for telling me all this.”

The tips of his ears turned red. “Just because I don’t have enough proof doesn’t mean your thinking wasn’t helpful.”

“Thanks.” Skye gulped. “What a sweet thing to say. I’m so glad you don’t think I’m interfering.”

“Not as long as you come to me and don’t try to investigate on your own.” Wally took her hands. “I don’t want you to put yourself in danger.”

A shiver went down the back of her neck at his touch. His fingers were warm and slightly calloused. She tried to draw away but he tightened his grip.

When she spoke her voice sounded as if she had just finished jogging. “Would it be possible for me to see my grandmother’s reports?”

He chuckled deep in his chest. “That might be arranged.”

She tried to find something to say, but her focus shifted to his lips, which were moving toward her. This time when she tried to free her hands he let them go, only to wrap his arms around her a moment later.

He smelled like cinnamon and the last thing she noticed before he closed the slight distance between them were his eyes. Usually a warm milk chocolate, they had darkened until they were almost black.

Wally’s mouth settled gently on hers, then increased its pressure. At first she nestled closer, allowing her fingertips to explore his jaw and wander into the thick, blunt texture of his hair.

But as he began to deepen the kiss, a tiny part of her common sense pushed its way forward. She levered herself from the circle of his arms.

Skye could barely get enough breath to speak. “This isn’t a good idea.”

“Why?” A line appeared between his eyebrows. “Are you saying you don’t feel anything for me?”

Skye backed toward the foyer. “No. I mean yes. I mean, I do feel something for you. I always have, but this is way too soon. Darleen could still decide to come back.”

Wally opened his mouth, then closed it without speaking. He looked at her with troubled eyes, picked up his notebook and tucked it into his shirt pocket before walking to the door. “This isn’t the end of it, you know.”

Skye nodded and whispered to his back as he walked toward his squad car, “I know.”

She sighed and started in on the remaining chores. She finally understood what the song, “Torn Between Two Lovers” meant. Hustling Simon out so quickly had been a bad idea. But having both men in the same room was far too uncomfortable. She needed to make some decisions pretty darn soon.

The afternoon stretched ahead of her and the cottage felt empty. Skye finished cleaning about three and, after taking a shower, sat down to read. But for once the printed page couldn’t hold her attention. Something she had seen or heard was teasing the edge of her unconscious. She knew the only way to lure the bit of information to the surface was to totally ignore it and do something else. It was time to visit the survivalists.

CHAPTER 17

Sing for Your Supper

Skye had considered asking Wally to go with her to the survivalist camp, but having the chief of police along did not go with her cover story. She was stopping by to see how Perry Underwood was doing after his problem at school. In fact, if she didn’t go alone, her explanation of why she was there wouldn’t hold up. She had to be there as Ms. Denison, school psychologist. And Ms. Denison would not have an escort.

If a pickup had not been pulling out as she drove up the road, Skye would have missed the entrance to the camp entirely. A camouflaged gate guarded the entry and there was little evidence on the ground that vehicles regularly went in and out.

She stopped her car and got out. How did the gate open? She put her fingers through the leaf-covered wire mesh and tugged. It slid smoothly to the right on well-oiled tracks. Thank goodness it wasn’t locked.

As Skye guided the Buick down the tightly packed dirt lane, she wondered how the heck she was going to locate the Underwoods. Then she realized she could work the circumstances in her favor. She had an excuse to stop and talk to other people as she tried to find them.

Trailers and tents of every description were set up along the hills and lakes. All were heavily screened by dense foliage. This area had been one of the many coal mines, and the unique landscaping was the result.

When the mining companies abandoned Scumble River thirty years ago, the huge holes in the ground and equally large slag heaps next to them were eyesores and dangerous nuisances. After a while, though, some of Scumble River’s citizens figured out how to make the mines into money-earning recreational areas. They hauled sand in to line the shallowest of the coal pits and put fish in the deeper holes. While they were getting the beaches and fishing ponds ready, grass and trees were planted everywhere else. Now, people from the city spent their summer weekends paying dearly to swim in an old coal pit.

Skye wondered how the survivalists had been able to afford to buy such a huge tract of recreational-quality land. Either they purchased it before prices rose or someone in their group had a lot of money to throw around.

After what seemed forever, Skye spotted a log cabin to her left. It was bigger and more permanent than any other dwelling she’d seen so far. Perhaps it was the camp’s head-quarters. She parked her car between a pickup and a Suburban with a red cross painted on the side, and walked up to the porch.

The memory of Simon’s telling her about the shooting out here suddenly popped into her mind. She looked around nervously. Was there a gun pointed at her this very minute? No, she was being silly. He had said it was an accident, hadn’t he?

She took a deep breath and knocked on the screen door, smoothing her khaki pants and black polo shirt as she waited. This had been another tough wardrobe decision. What does one wear to infiltrate a survivalist camp? Unfortunately, her camouflage suit was at the cleaners.

Abruptly a huge man filled the doorway and growled, “Yeah, what do you want?”

“I’m Ms. Denison from Scumble River Elementary School. Could you direct me to the Underwoods?” Skye forced her voice not to quaver.

“They went back to Michigan.” He turned to go.

“Wait. Ah, as long as I’m here, could I talk to you for a minute?”

“About what? I ain’t got no kids.”

“But you are the leader out here, right?” She took a wild guess.

He narrowed his eyes. “Why do you say that?”

“Well, it’s obvious that you would be the top guy.” Skye stole a peek at his face and laid the flattery on thicker. “Your bearing, your aura of authority, your size, they all scream commander.”

“Yeah?” He straightened his back and squared his shoulders. “I suppose you’re right. The major don’t live out here and I’m in charge when he’s not in camp.” He stuck out a hand bigger than Skye’s purse. “I’m Sarge.”

Skye swallowed nervously as she watched her hand disappear in his grip, which was surprisingly gentle. “My name’s Skye.”

“Aw, that’s a pretty name.” Sarge leaned against the door frame. “So, what you want to know? We ain’t got no secrets. We’re just getting ready for when civilization fails.”

“Well, preparedness is always a smart thing.” Skye searched her mind for a good question, figuring this was a limited opportunity. “You may have known my grandmother, Antonia Leofanti. She lived on the farm next to this property.”

“Heard of her. Never met the lady.” Sarge examined his fingernails. “Saw in the paper she was killed. Shame, not being safe in your own home.”

“Ah, no offense, but I know some of your people occasionally forgot where your camp ended and her farm began and went across the line.” Skye watched him closely for a reaction. “I was wondering if anyone out here had seen anything.”

“We never took anything.” Sarge crossed his arms and a stubborn look stole over his features. “But your grandma sure went crazy if we were hunting and took a step on her property. That wasn’t too neighborly.”

“No, it wasn’t. But she was an old woman whose health was already failing. Things bothered her that never used to.”

He nodded and leaned back. “Sometimes old folks are hard to live with.”

“So, do you think you could ask around and see if anyone noticed anything the day she died?”

“Okay, but I’d’ve heard if anyone saw anything.”

“Let me give you my number, just in case someone remembers something.” She fished in her purse and pulled out a small notebook and pen.

While she was writing, a skinny teenager ducked under the older man’s arm and ran down the steps. She yelled over his shoulder, “You ain’t stickin’ me with no needle.”

An attractive middle-aged woman wearing an old-fashioned nurse’s uniform followed the girl. The nurse was holding a syringe; its metal tip glinted in the sunlight. “This is only a tetanus shot. That barbed wire you cut yourself on was rusty. You need this to prevent you from getting sick.”

Without speaking, Sarge stepped off the porch, grabbed the girl in a bear hug, and presented her to the nurse, who administered the injection. The teenager took off as soon as the man released her and the nurse went back inside the cabin.

Skye distractedly thanked Sarge and said good-bye. The nurse had triggered something in the back of Skye’s mind. She got into the Buick, waved, and was nearly in Scumble River when it hit her. One of the pictures from her grandmother’s box had a similar scene. It showed Mona and Minnie as teens standing on either side of a nurse in an old-fashioned uniform. The Chicago skyline was the backdrop.

Skye abruptly swung the wheel of the car and turned toward her brother’s salon. She wanted that picture. Who was the nurse? Why was she with her aunts? And what were they doing in Chicago?

She was sitting on her couch staring at the photo when her telephone rang. Bingo was ensconced on her lap, and she had several coffee-table books featuring Chicago spread around her. She grabbed the receiver just before her new answering machine intervened.

Charlie’s rough baritone blared through the handset. “Skye, honey, what you doing tomorrow night?”

“Why?” Charlie had roped her into many unpleasant activities in the past and she was cautious, even though she knew she would end up doing exactly what he wanted her to do.

“The Stanley County Farm Bureau is having a pork chop supper and I got stuck buying two tickets.” He did not sound regretful.

“I thought you had to be a farmer to be involved with that organization.” Skye eased herself into a kitchen chair.

“Hell, they interpret the rules real loose for this sort of thing. I own a couple of pieces of land that I rent out to farmers, so they bugged me to join. Which means I got to show my face at their goings-on.”

“You must belong to every organization in Scumble River.”

“I don’t like to brag, but it seems real important to people that I be involved.”

“That’s impressive.” She was only half listening as she continued to look at the photo.

“So, you want to go with me, or do you got a hot date with Simon?”

“No. Simon and I don’t see each other every night or anything.”

“Then you want to go to this supper?” Charlie’s voice held a hint of impatience.

“Sure. What time?” Skye reached for a pencil. “What do I wear?”

“I’ll pick you up at four. It’s over to the county seat, so it will take us forty-five minutes or so to drive it. Wear what you usually wear; it’s not fancy or nothing.”

“Listen, Uncle Charlie, before you hang up, I’ve got a picture here that shows Aunt Minnie and Aunt Mona posed with a nurse in Chicago. They look like they’re in their teens.” Skye examined the images closely. “Do you know anything about that?”

“A nurse, huh? I can’t think of anyone. I’ll take a look at it when I come get you tomorrow.”

Charlie arrived the next afternoon driving a big black Cadillac DeVille. Skye ran her hand caressingly down the soft leather seats and breathed in the new-car scent. “Wow, Uncle Charlie, when did you get this?”

He tipped back his straw fedora. “I haven’t bought it yet. Just trying it out. Do you like it?”

“What’s not to like?” Skye smiled. “You look perfect in it.” She leaned across the huge expanse of front seat, and kissed him on the cheek. “But what’s wrong with your other Cadillac?”

“I bought that used, just to tide me over till I could get around to shopping for a new one.”

Before Charlie could bring up her need for a car, or the fact that he’d be pleased to buy her one with his newly inherited wealth, Skye passed him the photo of her aunts. “Do you know who that woman with them is or where this was taken?”

“No, can’t say as I recognize her,” Charlie said. “But the two girls are definitely Mona and Minnie.”

“Darn. That means I’ll have to ask Mona, since Minnie is still in the hospital.” Skye slumped down and crossed her arms.

“You don’t get along too good with Mona, huh?” Charlie smirked.

“Aunt Mona’s views and mine don’t always agree.”

“Of course, not many people’s do. Neal pretty much tells her what to think, and he’s a self-righteous ass.” Charlie paused.

Skye could tell he was getting ready for one of his zingers.

“Neal and Mona are two of them there puritans. And you know the definition of puritanism, doncha? It’s the nagging fear that someone, somewhere may be happy.”

The pork chop supper was being held at the Stanley County fairgrounds in Laurel. There was one entrance from the main road, a rutted, gravel path that made Skye wince as the beautiful DeVille bounced from furrow to furrow. She could hear rocks pinging off the shiny finish.

Cars were being funneled by men in orange vests to a grassy area beside the tents. Due to the recent rains, there were big patches of mud and bog waiting to trap unsuspecting drivers.

As Charlie edged his Cadillac into the line for parking, Skye examined the crowds and asked, “Who are all these people?”

“Farm families from within fifty miles of here.” Charlie kept his eye on the car in front of him. No one was getting ahead of Charlie Patukas.

The line of vehicles had stopped moving and Charlie pounded on his horn. “Christ, this traffic is backed up as bad as my bowels.”

Skye screwed up her face. “Gee, thanks for that image, Uncle Charlie.”

When they finally parked and joined the hordes of people pushing their way to where the food was being served, Charlie said, “Maybe some of the old-timers around here will recognize that nurse.”

“Great. I really don’t want to have to ask Aunt Mona.” Skye clung to his arm so she wouldn’t be pushed away with the crowds.

She was stepping into the meal line when Charlie dragged her away and pulled her behind the structure. For just a second Skye felt afraid. Her fear quickly dispersed as he continued to tug her through the exit.

A woman of about fifty stood near a grill, poking pork chops with a long fork. She wore two red plastic barrettes in her dishwater-blond hair. Stringy bangs covered a sloping, uneven forehead. The indistinct features of her pumpkin-shaped face were red with the heat of the charcoal. Her ragged fingernails had been painted scarlet and matched her Spandex shorts.

Charlie waved the tickets in her face. “Fayanne, give me two plates. I can’t wait in that line.”

Fayanne Emerick owned the Brown Bag liquor store across from Charlie’s Up a Lazy River Motor Court. She kept a ledger in her head, and the accounts had to balance at all times.

“Sure.” Fayanne grabbed a couple of plastic plates. “By the way, did you ever talk to that trucker friend of yours about that discount beer he was supposed to look into getting me?”

“He’ll deliver on Monday.” Charlie grabbed the plates as soon as Fayanne had finished filling them. “Thanks.”

When they settled at one of the picnic tables scattered around the grounds, Skye said, “Darn, I should have asked Fayanne about the picture.”

“Honey, you got to be careful who you ask and how you ask them.” Charlie sawed a piece of meat from his pork chop. “You don’t want this getting back to Mona or Minnie.”

“So, how should I ask then?” Skye spread butter on a roll.

“Run get me a beer while I figure it out.” Charlie gestured to a group of metal troughs filled with ice, beer, and soda.

Skye made her way to the drinks and spoke to the white denim-clad derriere bent over the bins. “I’d recognize that butt anywhere.”

Trixie heaved herself upright from the tubs and waved two cans of Diet Coke triumphantly over her head. “Skye, what are you doing here?”

“Uncle Charlie invited me.”

“Owen thought this would be a good way to meet some of the other farm families in the area.” Trixie pointed to a serious-looking man engaged in conversation with two guys wearing Caterpillar gimme caps.

“I see he’s made some contacts.”

“Yeah, I’d invite you over, but you wouldn’t thank me for it. All their wives can talk about is canning and baking.” Trixie’s mobile features made a disgusted face.

“Thanks for the warning. Uncle Charlie will want his beer anyway.” Skye started off, but turned back. “You want to go to the beach tomorrow?”

“Sure. Is the afternoon okay?”

“I’ll pick you up about one.” Skye waved a can and left.

Skye stopped as she neared their picnic table. Sitting with Charlie were Gillian, wearing a low-cut chartreuse top, her husband, with his beer belly hanging over his jeans, and her daughter, with a scowl on her face. Skye took a deep breath. This was her chance to mend some fences and be nicer to her cousins. They had been very understanding about Skye’s involvement with their mother’s hospitalization, and it was time to start fresh and try to be friends.

Skye forced herself to smile as she sat down. “Hi. Any news about your mom?”

Gillian shot a meaningful glance at the little girl. “Kristin, can you get Mommy a can of pop?”

After the girl left, Gillian said, “No. I understand we have you to thank for not being able to see her alone.”

I should have realized they’d be mad about that and called them to explain. “I’m sorry, I should have talked to you first, but I was so afraid someone would try to hurt her again.” Skye popped the top of her Diet Coke.

“So, you don’t think Mom tried to kill herself?” Gillian ran her fingers through her hair.

“No, I don’t.” Skye went over her reasons.

“Well, I don’t know if that makes sense or not, but I knew she didn’t attempt suicide.”

“Why?”

“Because I have a little psychic gift.”

Before she could stop herself, Skye blurted out, “Maybe you could exchange it for a nice sweater.” Damn, being nice to her cousins was going to be tougher than she thought.

Conversation deteriorated from that point, and it was a relief when Charlie suggested that they head for the dessert tent.

As they walked away, he took Skye’s hand and patted it. “You know that cousin of yours is a few peas short of a casserole.”

“Sometimes I’m afraid it’s genetic.”

Skye put a couple of chocolate chip cookies on her plate. All the sweets had been donated by the officers’ wives and were made from scratch.

Charlie picked up a piece of apple pie mounded with ice cream and guided her to another set of tables. Skye broke off a piece of the cookie, which oozed chocolate. She closed her eyes and savored the intense burst of flavor.

“I been thinking about how to show that picture around. How ’bout if you block out Mona and Minnie and just leave the nurse for people to look at?”

“What a great idea.” Skye found the photo in her purse. She also managed to find a pad of Post-it notes. After affixing one square to either side of the photograph, she showed it to Charlie. “What do you think?”

He forked the rest of the pie into his mouth, chewed, and swallowed. “Great. Let’s get to work.”

The old man shrugged and went back to talking about tractors. So far none of the people they had spoken to had recognized the woman in the picture.

Charlie seemed to thrive on the noise and the crowds. He greeted most people by name and easily joined their conversations. Skye found it difficult to keep people straight, and although some faces looked familiar, she could rarely remember who they were. Still, it was interesting to hear their opinions and listen to them talk about a Scumble River that existed before she was born. Maybe she’d ask Charlie about doing an oral history with some of his cronies.

The fairgrounds were bigger than she remembered. People walked on caked dirt and tried to avoid the many spots of mud. Several large pole buildings were interspersed with tents and food stands. These structures were made of huge sheets of metal supported with steel rods.

Representatives from local farm-related businesses handed out brochures and freebies. Skye spotted a cousin from her father’s side, Kevin Denison. He was there representing his insurance company, which reminded her that she needed to remind him about her checks. Now the company owed her for both her car and her windows.

Charlie stopped at a group of older women gathered around a picnic table. “Good evening, ladies, do you all know my goddaughter, Skye Denison?”

The women murmured hello and Charlie told Skye their names. At the last one he said, “And this is Hilda Quinn. I believe she went to school with your Aunt Mona and your Aunt Minnie.”

“My, yes. I was in Minnie’s class and Mona was two years behind us.” Hilda’s bright blue eyes darted from Charlie to Skye.

“Skye, would you mind waiting here while I take care of some business? I’m sure these ladies will take good care of you.” Charlie winked and walked away before she could answer.

With the focus of attention clearly in her direction, Skye smiled and sat down. She wasn’t sure how to start, but the others had no qualms.

A woman with meticulously styled hair said, “We’re very sorry about your family’s troubles.”

Skye nodded her appreciation, wondering if she meant her grandmother’s death, her aunt’s attempted suicide, or the fact that everyone thought one of her relatives was a killer.

The group chatted politely for a few minutes before drifting back into their previous conversations. Skye lowered her voice and directed her question to Hilda. “Did you know my aunts very well when you were at school?”

“Yes, Minnie and I were pretty close until . . .” Hilda’s voice trailed off.

It took a moment, but Skye remembered what her father had said on the drive to her grandmother’s funeral. Of course, that must be what the nurse in the picture was about. Minnie’s breakdown. “Until she left school?”

“Why yes. When she came back she wasn’t the same.”

“How long was she gone?” Skye studied the other woman intently.

“About a month or so. I remember she left right around Easter and was back before Mother’s Day.” Hilda took a sip of her coffee.

“But she didn’t go back to school, did she?” Skye tried to keep things straight in her head.

“No, Mona did, but not Minnie. It was a real shame too. Not to graduate when you’re so close.”

“Do you know why they went away?” Skye couldn’t think of a way to ask delicately.

“We were told it was for Minnie’s health. She had been having spells since she was little. I remember the day she went away, we were walking out of school together after the last bell and your grandfather pulled up in the family car.” Hilda’s eyes took on a faraway look, as if she was thinking of something she hadn’t contemplated in years.

“Wow, you have an impressive memory,” Skye said, encouraging her.

Hilda frowned. “Do you remember your grandpa?”

“No, he died when I was three.”

“He was an old-fashioned man. Very dignified. He kept himself aloof from most people. It was rare to see him in town without Antonia.”

“But he came alone to pick up Minnie and Mona on that day?”

“No, that was another reason why I remember it so well. He had a nurse with him.”

To Skye, everything suddenly became quiet and still. Her hands shook as she extracted the photo from her purse. “Was this the woman?”

Hilda leaned forward and adjusted her glasses. “Yes, that’s the nurse. How did you get a picture of her?”

Ignoring Hilda’s question, Skye crossed her fingers. “Do you know her name?”

“Well, your grandfather certainly didn’t introduce us.” Hilda scowled. “He always treated people like he was a king and they were his servants.”

“Like Uncle Neal does.”

“Right.” Hilda nodded. “That lord of the manor attitude.”

“So, you didn’t get the nurse’s name.”

“Well, not verbally, but when Mr. Leofanti and that nurse came up to us on the sidewalk, they each took one of the girls by the arm. The nurse was on my side and I could read the nameplate pinned to her uniform.”

Skye hardly dared to breathe. “Do you remember it?”

“We’d been reading The Scarlet Letter in English class and I thought it was an odd coincidence that the nurse’s name was so close to the woman’s in the story.” Hilda closed her eyes for a second. “Her name was Esther Prynn.”

“You have a remarkable memory. I’m amazed.” Skye could hardly sit still.

“It helps that I’m an English teacher and my class has read The Scarlet Letter every year for the past twenty-five years.”

CHAPTER 18

There Was an Old Woman

The lawyer was late. Skye narrowed her eyes and crossed her legs. She hated being kept waiting when she had an appointment. If she didn’t have to ask this jerk for a favor, she would be out of there so fast. But she needed to find out the details of her grandmother’s trust and, according to her mother, this bozo was the one who had drawn it up.

Another fifteen minutes passed and Skye could stand it no longer. She put her purse and book on the chair and went up to the desk. “Do you know how much longer Mr. Ginardi will be? I have other appointments this morning.”

“I have no idea.” The woman didn’t look up from her magazine.

“Would it be possible for you to check?” Skye gritted her teeth.

“He doesn’t like to be interrupted.”

Before Skye could think of anything else to say, a man poked his head out of the doorway behind the woman. When he saw Skye looking at him he flushed. “Ah . . . you must be Miss Denison. Come in.”

Skye followed him and sat in the chair he indicated.

He spoke to her without making eye contact. “I’m Bob Ginardi. I’m afraid we’ll have to be quick about this. I need to leave in a few minutes.”

Skye clenched her teeth. What nerve. First he made her wait over half an hour, and now he was going to rush her in and out. Still she couldn’t afford to offend him, yet. “I’ll try not to take up too much of your time.” Skye got out a notepad and pen. “Since you have only a few minutes for me, let’s get down to business. What I need to know is how my grandmother’s trust works.”

The lawyer frowned. “I really can’t talk to you about it since you’re not named in the trust.”

She reached in her tote and handed him an envelope. “That’s from my mother, who is a part of the trust, allowing me to act on her behalf.”

“It’s not notarized.” He slid the paper back to her, a look of relief on his face. “You’ll have to make another appointment.” Ginardi took out a handkerchief and wiped the sweat from his forehead.

“No.” Skye realized this man not only didn’t want to talk to her, but was afraid to talk to her. What was he hiding?

The lawyer’s features registered surprise.

“I’m not leaving without this information. We are not talking state secrets here. All I need to know is how my family’s Bypass Trust works. If you feel you can’t tell me, I will call my mother and she’ll ask the questions.” Skye looked at her watch. “But that may take some time.”

Ginardi laughed nervously. “You can’t hold me hostage.”

“Maybe not, but are you willing to call the police to get rid of me?” Before he could answer, Skye continued, “Because if I don’t get answers today, the next time I come here will be with my mother, our attorney, and an auditor.”

He swallowed. “Okay, no need to get so upset. I have to protect confidentiality.” After using his handkerchief again he went on. “I guess I can explain the trust to you, at least in broad terms.”

“Fine.”

“A simple Bypass Trust means half of the estate goes to the surviving spouse at the time of the other spouse’s death. And the other half goes into a family trust with the income from that half going to the surviving spouse, as well.”

“So, except for Grandma, no one got a dime while she was living.” Skye tried to ease him into being more specific.

“Right.” He stared at a point above her head. “In the case of your grandfather’s estate, most of the value was in land. The land could not be divided except to pay for Antonia’s care, as long as your grandmother lived.”

“Was that being considered?” Skye clarified her question. “Selling off some of the land to pay for Grandma’s care?”

“We had been deliberating about the sale of some of the land, yes.” He looked at the contents of the file. “No decision would have needed to be made until fall. It depended on what kind of year the farm had, and how much the crops were sold for.”

“I know my uncles and my father do all the actual farming of the Leofanti land. Do they get any of the profits?”

Ginardi became fascinated with the crease in his pants. “Yes, the business is set up as if they were sharecroppers. They put in the labor, your grandmother put in the land, and the profits were divided, fifty percent to her and fifty percent among your father and uncles.”

Skye made a note. “What happens now?”

“The heirs can do what they wish as long as they all agree.”

“And if they all don’t agree?”

“Then the land will have to be sold and the money divided equally.”

Skye took a shot in the dark. “Is that what my Uncle Dante wanted to know when he was in to see you?”

Ginardi squirmed in his seat.

Skye continued to look him in the eye. She had found that pretending to know more than she actually knew could be very enlightening at times.

“Yes.”

Skye’s next stop was the library. She used the card catalog to locate the Dewey decimal number for poisons and found several books on the subject. She sat down at a table and tried to find a match for the name her mother had mangled.

After she read a few sections she found a likely suspect. Jatropha curcas. The common name was Barbados nut. It was found in southern Florida and Hawaii and the raw seeds had a pleasant taste. There would have been no difficulty getting her grandmother or Mrs. Jankowski to eat them mixed into brownies.

Farther down the page she found the symptoms. Difficulty breathing, sore throat, bloating, dizziness, vomiting, diarrhea, and drowsiness. Wally’s guess was right, the murderer must have cleaned Grandma up. She needed to ask the chief if vomit and stool were present when they found Mrs. Jankowski.

The entry ended by saying that the poison, once ingested, took only fifteen to twenty minutes to kill.

When Skye got back to her car she noticed that there were still two hours before she was supposed to pick up Trixie to go swimming. She decided to see if she could take the local doctor to lunch.

Doc Zello was semiretired, working only half-days, but she headed to his office anyway. His was the only car in the lot.

As she walked up the familiar concrete steps and through the waiting area that smelled of antiseptic and cough drops, she felt as if she were ten again. Skye knocked on the closed dutch doors.

Doc Zello’s voice bellowed in answer. “I’m not here unless this is an emergency.”

She pushed her way in and found him at his desk. “It’s an emergency. I’m starving and I’m taking you to lunch.”

He looked at her over his glasses. “Looks like you could stand to skip a few lunches.”

“Looks as if you could stand to see a barber.”

His wild white hair stood on end. He absentmindedly ran his fingers through it, making it worse. “Okay, so why do you want to take me to lunch?”

“I want to pick your brain.”

“You know I can’t tell you anything confidential.”

“I’ll work around it.” She took him by the arm and they walked to her car.

After they had driven to the Feedbag, been seated, and had given their order, Skye started her questions. “You’ve practiced medicine in Scumble River for how long?”

“Over fifty years. I’ve lived here all my life.”

“Do you remember a nurse by the name of Esther Prynn? She was around here in the mid-sixties.”

He stroked his beard. “Can’t say as I do, right offhand. Why do you ask?”

Skye didn’t want to explain, so she ignored the question. “She might have done private duty nursing. Maybe for people who had what they used to call nervous breakdowns.”

“That was a long time ago. Are you trying to find her?”

“I don’t want to say too much until I’m more sure of my facts, but I think there might be some link between this woman and my grandmother’s murder.” Unless, of course, Uncle Dante or Hugo did it for the land. Or the twins for the jewelry. Or one of her other relatives for reasons she had yet to discover.

“Your best bet is to check with the nurses’ licensing board. They might have an address for her.” He held up a hand mottled with age spots. “But if she doesn’t practice anymore, then she probably didn’t renew her certificate.”

“Could you check for me?” Skye turned her head to one side and looked at him through her lashes. “You know, a well-known doctor such as yourself would get a lot better results than a nobody like me.”

“Okay.” Doc Zello slapped her lightly on the cheek. “But don’t think you’re fooling me for one minute. I just want whoever killed Antonia to be brought to justice.”

“Thanks, Doc.”

They sat quietly while the waitress delivered their order and refilled their iced teas.

The meal was almost over when Doc Zello spoke again. “You know, I might have been your grandfather.”

“What?”

“I dated your grandmother before she married Angelo. I always regretted not asking her to marry me. She was an amazing woman. You remind me a lot of her. Once she got an idea into her head, she’d never let go until she was satisfied. And she always wanted things to be fair.”

“Mom said the same thing right after Grandma died, but I never noticed a similarity between us.”

“Antonia saw it. That’s why she was telling you the family history.” He pushed his plate away.

“It did seem important to her that some kind of permanent record be made.” Skye used her napkin and put it aside. “Too bad it’ll never be finished now.”

“History is never finished.”

Trixie was full of conversation and high spirits, halting her chatter only long enough for Skye to show the man at the Scumble River Recreational Club her identification card.

They drove down a narrow gravel road toward the beach. The lane was bordered by grassy areas dotted with trees and picnic tables. Most of them were occupied by young women and small children.

Locker rooms bracketed a crude pavilion that contained a soda machine and a pay telephone. They changed quickly into their swimsuits; neither wanted to linger in the slimy, mold-filled building.

The beach wasn’t crowded. Skye had noted early on that most families seemed to swim in the morning. She and Trixie climbed down the concrete steps and walked along the shore until they found a relatively isolated spot.

After helping Skye to smooth out an old bedspread on the sand, Trixie peeled off the oversized T-shirt she was wearing. Underneath, a cherry-red bikini glowed against her tan skin.

Skye glanced down at her pale limbs. “Trixie, how’d you get tanned already?”

“Tanning booth at your brother’s salon. How come you don’t use it?”

“No time, I guess.”

“Want to take a dip?” Trixie was rocking from foot to foot on the hot sand.

“Sure. Race you to the raft.” Skye tossed her cover-up on the blanket, revealing a dark purple one-piece maillot.

Trixie made it to the float a millisecond before Skye and they both flung themselves, panting, on the bleached wood.

“When did you get to be such a fast swimmer?” Trixie asked. “I was on my college swim team, and you nearly beat me just now.”

“I swim a lot. Here when the weather is nice and at the high school when it gets cold.”

“Oh. Cool. Now that I’ll be on staff we can swim together.” Trixie rolled to her side and rested her head on her hand. “So, have you found out anything else about your grandmother’s murder?”

“Some.” Skye was uncomfortable sharing information. She was out of the habit of exchanging casual gossip because most of what she heard at work was confidential.

“Do you suspect Hugo and Victoria?”

“Well, Grandma’s farm would be worth a lot of money if it could be subdivided into a housing development. And while Hugo wouldn’t get the money directly, I’m sure Uncle Dante would be very generous to his only child.”

Trixie shook her head and water flew from her gamin-like haircut. “Yeah, but didn’t you say Dante wants to continue to farm?”

“True, but he is sixty already. Maybe Hugo felt he could talk his dad into his way of thinking.”

“So, is Dante in the clear?”

Skye squeezed the moisture from her chestnut curls. “No, I knew Grandma’s care was costing a bundle. I mean, do the math. Mrs. J was there twenty-four hours, six days a week. They were only paying her five dollars an hour, but that’s still over seven hundred a week. Plus a couple hundred for the woman who stayed on Sundays. So that’s over four thousand a month, or nearly fifty thousand a year. Because of that, it turns out they might have had to start selling off pieces of the farm to support her. The lawyer said it would have all depended on how the crops were this year.”

“Wow, it’s a good thing my mother-in-law didn’t need to have someone take care of her for too long.” Trixie grimaced. “Oh, that reminds me, how’s your Aunt Minnie? Do you think she attempted suicide because she felt guilty about killing your grandmother?”

Skye scooted to the edge of the raft and dangled her feet in the water. “She’s still in the hospital. And actually I’m wondering if her so-called suicide attempt wasn’t really a murder attempt.” Skye told her about Minnie’s aversion to pills.

“Why would anyone want to kill her?”

“Maybe she knows something. I’ve been doing a little asking around and there’s a lot more to her past than I ever knew.”

Trixie shaded her eyes. “I thought your grandmother was telling you the family history.”

“She was, but we didn’t get to my aunts’ and uncles’ generation.”

“How about Minnie’s daughters?” Trixie eased back into the water.

“They certainly thought there were more jewelry and valuables than there turned out to be.” Skye followed Trixie into the water and they headed slowly back to shore. “Their husbands spilled the beans about their misconception at Grandma’s funeral lunch.”

“Of course you don’t suspect your own mother or brother.”

“No, thank goodness they have alibis. And I really haven’t found a motive for Aunt Mona, besides the fact that she’s a mean-spirited, sanctimonious bitch.” Skye filled in Trixie about the essay contest at school as they emerged from the water and crossed the hot sand.

“What a horrible thing to do to a child. And to have to sacrifice all your hard work with him. How awful for you too.”

Skye settled on the spread and began to apply sunscreen. Trixie joined her and oiled her own limbs.

Skye lay down in the bright sun and was almost asleep when Trixie’s voice woke her. “I know how to check to see who filled Minnie’s prescription.”

“How?”

“My cousin works at the pharmacy in town. She can check the records for us.”

“But isn’t that illegal?” Skye asked.

“Only if we get caught.”

CHAPTER 19

Five, Six, More Nasty Tricks

Before Skye dropped her off, Trixie agreed to call her cousin that evening. They parted with promises to stay in close touch.

As Skye went past her parents’ place she noticed her dad out in the yard, and on an impulse she pulled the Buick into the gravel drive. She had always found it difficult to talk to her father. His clipped way of speaking, and lack of interest in anything not farm related, made it hard to have a conversation with him.

Won’t Dad be surprised? I actually want to talk about agriculture. She grinned as she turned off the motor.

“Mom home?” Skye asked, approaching her father.

“Nope, she’s working afternoons. Just left.” Jed sat on his haunches looking at a snowblower that he’d turned upside down.

“Is she still mad at me?” Skye warily circled the pile of greasy parts.

He shrugged.

It was the kind of response she had been getting from him all her life. His refusal to communicate at a personal level drove her to say things for their shock value alone.

“Do you think someone in the family killed Grandma?” Skye said abruptly.

He shrugged again. It took a lot more than words to make Jed react.

“Almost every one of them has a motive.” Skye stepped back as Jed’s tool slipped and oil sprayed outward.

“Any proof?” Jed tightened a bolt and wiped it with a dirty cloth.

“Not really.” Skye steered the subject away from her lack of evidence and continued in the same vein. “I was wondering about Uncle Dante. Is he a good farmer?”

Jed was silent, finally wiping his hands on the rag and sticking them in his overall pockets. “Can’t really say. Has different ideas than me or Emmett.”

“Oh?”

“Emmett and me, we pretty much agree on most things. You know, do ’em the way it worked before.” Jed looked at Skye. “Dante likes to try new stuff.”

“Is that bad?” Skye’s knowledge of farming was surprisingly limited for having grown up in the country.

“Sometimes. Depends if they work or not.” Jed flipped over the snowblower.

“And were his new methods successful?”

“Not so’s you’d notice.”

“Has he bought a lot of new machinery lately?” Skye knew that a simple tractor could cost more than fifty-five thousand dollars.

“Yeah, he likes new equipment. Likes things to be shiny and bright.”

Skye pictured her father’s machinery. Most of it was decades old, and one would be hard-pressed to tell what color it had started out, but it all ran as if brand-new, thanks to Jed’s talent as a mechanic. She knew her father kept Emmett’s equipment running too, but she couldn’t recall Dante ever asking for help.

“Do you think maybe Uncle Dante was skimming a little off the top of the Leofanti trust?”

Jed took out his pocketknife and started to clean his nails. “You best leave that idea alone.”

“Why?” Her tone sharpened.

“ ’Cause none of his sisters wants to go down that road.”

“Oh, so they know.”

“Nah, but they don’t want to know either.” Jed finished with his fingernails and replaced the knife in his pocket.

Skye was stumped as to where to go from that point. To buy some time to think she asked a question she had always been curious about. “Why do you farm, Dad?”

At first she didn’t think he was going to answer. “ ’Cause I like bein’ my own boss and doin’ what I want when I want.” Jed pulled the bill of his International Harvester gimme cap down over his eyes.

She nodded thoughtfully. It was a feeling she could relate to. Jed was gathering his tools and wiping them down. Silences never seemed to bother him. She admired that trait even though she found it difficult to deal with at times.

“Does Uncle Dante make a good living from his land?” Maybe her mother and aunts didn’t want to know what Dante was up to, but she still did.

Jed lifted his cap and scratched his head. “Well, now, the last couple of years have been tough for us all. Not enough rain for growing and too much for harvesting.”

“Has he had to sell anything off?”

“That would never happen. Selling land is against his religion.”

“I’ll bet he was upset then when it looked like some of Grandma’s land would have to be sold to take care of her.” Skye watched as her father coaxed life out of the decrepit snowblower’s engine.

“Yeah, he was fit to be tied. Said no way were they selling his heritage.”

It was nearly five when Skye parked the Buick in her driveway. She grabbed her tote bag from the backseat and started up the sidewalk toward her cottage.

Blood. There was blood everywhere. Skye had never seen so much blood.

Skye stood transfixed on the sidewalk. Splashes of crimson decorated her door. BITCH was written in four-foot letters across the white siding.

Her eyes frantically searched the surrounding area. I have got to get a cell phone.

She backed slowly to the car, and after gaining the safety of the front seat, locked all the doors. Her heart was beating twice its usual pace and sweat poured down her face and puddled under her arms.

Inconsequential thoughts kept crowding into her mind, while the movie projector in her brain insisted on replaying the scene over and over, at different speeds, as she put the Buick in gear and tore out of the driveway.

At the police station her mother took one look at Skye and ran around the counter. She gathered Skye into her arms. “What happened? You’re as pale as milk.”

Skye took a deep breath and realized she was going to vomit. Pushing her mother away, she raced for the bathroom. She could hear May and Wally talking outside the door as she washed her face, rinsed out her mouth, and scrubbed at the front of her blouse.

“I’m okay,” she reassured them as she made her way out of the ladies’ room.

May popped the top on a can of ginger ale before handing it to Skye. “Now, tell us what happened to you.”

Wally held a chair and guided Skye into it. “Yes, what in the hell is going on?”

It took her several tries before she was finally able to explain.

The chief’s face turned magenta and the pencil he was holding snapped. “This is going to stop right now. I will not have you harassed like this.”

May held one of Skye’s hands, patting it. “Wally will take care of it. Don’t you worry.”

Skye smiled weakly. “Thanks, guys.” Turning her eyes on the chief, she said, “It has to be either Hap Doozier or Leroy Yoder. The Underwood guy who’s with the survivalist group camping behind Grandma Leofanti’s land went back to Michigan.”

“How do you know that?”

Shit, I promised Wally not to investigate by myself. He’s been so cooperative too. Hope he understands my reasoning. She looked into his angry face and said, “Well, you told me you had talked to that group and didn’t think they were involved, but I needed to check them out myself. After all, they’re right there, cheek by jowl with my grandmother’s property.”

“So you went out there on your own?” A vein popped out on Wally’s forehead.

“I had to go alone. I went as the Scumble River Elementary School psychologist checking on Perry Underwood. They’d know that wasn’t true if I had the chief of police with me.”

“And did you find out anything I hadn’t?” His voice was dangerously quiet.

“No, but Sarge did say he’d ask around for me.” Skye smiled. “He was very nice. I wasn’t in any danger.”

“Sarge, as you call him, has a record a mile long. Much of it for assaults against women and minorities.”

“Oh.” Skye looked down at her clasped hands. “I guess I made a mistake.”

“I’m very disappointed in you. I thought we had mutual trust and respect. But I see you’ve been using me.”

“No—”

“There’s nothing more to say. I told you that betrayal was the one thing I couldn’t forgive. First Darleen and now you.” He slammed his notepad shut and stood up. “Wait here.”

“Where are you going?”

“To do my job.”

While she waited, Skye kept an ear cocked for the chief’s infrequent radio reports, and started drawing up a chronological list of events. Anything to take her mind off Wally’s words. She felt numb now, and knew that later the hurt would be unbearable.

The first time his voice interrupted her thoughts, he related that there was no sign of a break-in at her cottage or any clues to the perpetrator’s identity.

Meanwhile, Skye had composed two columns. One for murder-related activities and one for pranks. The slashed tires and broken windows were definitely annoyances. The other events were lined up neatly on the other side. This latest incident had a question mark.

As she wrote, Skye remembered something she wanted to ask May. She poked her head into the dispatch area. May was flipping through a Family Circle, obviously still upset.

Skye walked farther into the room and stopped in front of her mother’s chair. “I forgot, I have a question for you.”

May closed the magazine. “Oh?”

“Yeah, do you remember Minnie dropping out of school her senior year?” Skye hooked a chair with her foot and brought it toward her.

“Yes, it was before you were born and Vince was right around a year old.” May looked puzzled.

“Do you recall why she didn’t finish?”

“Well, I was really busy back then trying to keep up with Vince and the house and all, but I believe she had sort of a nervous breakdown, and went away somewhere to rest.” May frowned. “I think Mona went along to keep her company.”

“Did you find anything in that odd? I mean, did Minnie seem to be heading that way to you?”

May chewed her lip. “Now that you mention it, at the time I wondered a little. Minnie seemed okay to me.”

“And why take Mona out of school?”

“Mona hated to miss school. She was the smart one. We all thought she’d go to college for sure, but she seemed different when she got back.”

“Different?”

“More serious. Less frivolous.”

“Did you say anything to Grandma or Grandpa?”

“Grandma just said that I had been too busy to notice Minnie’s condition. Grandpa forbade me to speak of it, and ordered me to forget it.” May’s eyes widened. “And I did until you mentioned it.”

“Wow, Grandpa must have been pretty intimidating.”

“Oh, he was, he was.” May sat silently, seemingly lost in thoughts of the past, until the phone rang. “Yes, okay, good. I’ll tell her.” She turned toward Skye. “That was the chief. He said they’re pretty sure the blood was from a deer. They found the hide and entrails nearby.”

“But no sign of who did it?” Skye got up and fetched her list. She slowly erased the question mark. Another prank.

“No, but he said there didn’t seem to be any danger and you can go home.”

“Great.” Skye sighed. “Any idea how to remove deer blood from concrete and siding?”

“Call the twins. Their husbands hunt all the time.” May went back to her post, the excitement over for now.

Skye considered her mother’s advice and decided to go one better. Not only would she consult her cousins for cleaning tips, she would invite them to brunch on Sunday.

The twins might be able to tell her something about Minnie, since she couldn’t get in to see her aunt herself, and Victoria might let something slip about Dante or Hugo. Too bad her Aunt Mona didn’t have any kids to pump for information.

It was difficult to make herself walk through the bloodied threshold of her cottage. Wally had obviously tried to wipe the worst of it off, but brownish-red streaks remained.

Bingo met her at the door demanding food and attention until a breeze carried in the coppery smell of blood. Suddenly, he danced backward, his fur standing in a ridge down his spine. He streaked out of the foyer and slunk under the bed.

The light was blinking on Skye’s answering machine when she got to the kitchen. Before doing anything else, she washed her hands and took a bottle of Ice Mountain from the fridge. After a few swigs of the spring water she sat down at the table and pushed the play button.

“Skye? This is Doc. Pulled in a few favors and got that information you wanted. Esther Prynn is living in Chicago. Here’s her address and phone.” After relaying that data Doc went on, “Haven’t had time to go over my records yet. I’ll let you know what I find.”

She stopped the machine and made a careful note, then got up to check on Bingo. Only his eyes were visible as they glowed in the darkness.

Creeping forward on her stomach, Skye called, “Here kitty, kitty. Bingo, it’s okay, sweetie.”

He didn’t even blink.

After trying food and his favorite toys to lure him out, Skye said, “Fine, stay there. I never knew you were such a ’fraidy cat.”

She returned to the kitchen and played the last message.

“This is Karolyn. I’m calling for Superintendent Wraige. He would like to see you Monday at one to discuss the Clapp matter.”

Shit, shit, shit! I still haven’t figured out a way to keep my job and my integrity. What am I going to do?

Skye was surprised by her cousins’ easy acceptance of her invitation for brunch. She had always felt a misfit among her family. At parties the conversations centered around children and housekeeping, subjects to which she could contribute little.

The twins had both married before they turned twenty and produced children shortly afterward. Skye was graduating from college while they were changing diapers. She was leaving the Peace Corps when they were sending their firstborns to kindergarten. It was almost worse with Victoria, whose only focus was to be invited to the right parties and belong to the correct country club.

Making an effort to drown out her thoughts, Skye put on a Patsy Cline CD and turned the volume high. At least she had gotten instructions from her cousins for washing up deer blood. And maybe the brunch would give her a chance to get closer to them.

After mixing the cleaning solution as directed, Skye took a brush and set to work.

Skye had a date with Simon the next day. He was picking her up at nine and they were going to spend all of Saturday together. She got up at seven so she’d have time both to get ready and call her mom.

May answered on the first ring. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. In fact, I took your advice about asking the twins how to clean deer blood.”

“That’s great.”

“Of course I didn’t tell them the real reason I was asking, so make sure you don’t tell either.”

“Why would I say anything? I’m just glad to see you talking to your cousins.”

“Actually, I went a little further.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, well, I, ah, invited them over for brunch tomorrow. Victoria, too.”

“That’s great. Maybe you’ll all get to be closer now that you’re home.”

“I hope so.”

“What are you serving?”

“I’ll start with mimosas and Bellinis.” The champagne drinks were sure to loosen tongues. “Next, cantaloupe bowls with fresh fruit and quiche. And your famous lemon silk sherbet with dream bars for the perfect ending.”

Simon arrived precisely on time, looking cool and elegant in khakis and a short-sleeved denim shirt. Skye wore a denim skort and striped polo shirt.

After Simon gave Bingo the appropriate number of pets and scratches they got into Simon’s Lexus.

Hand on the wheel, Simon asked, “Where to, my lady? Your chauffeur awaits.”

“Are you sure you don’t have somewhere in mind?”

“Nope, it’s up to you.” Simon smiled and took her hand.

“Well, last time you let me choose, you didn’t like it, but if you’re truly a man of your word . . .” Skye trailed off, watching his reaction.

Simon’s eyes narrowed as he recalled the instance she referred to. “One qualification: nothing illegal.”

“Okay, I can live with that.” Under her breath Skye added, “Probably.”

“So, what do you want to do?”

“Go visit a little old lady.”

CHAPTER 20

How I Wonder What You Are

One of the reasons Skye needed to talk Simon into going to see the old nurse was because she was afraid to drive in Chicago. She mostly blamed this on her lousy sense of direction, although sometimes she wondered if it wasn’t really because May had frightened her when she was a teen with stories of all the awful things that took place in big cities.

Simon’s voice broke through her reflections. “What’s the address?”

“It’s 11502 Avenue D,” Skye read off a slip of paper.

He reached into the pouch on the door and withdrew an atlas of the city and surrounding suburbs. After studying it for several minutes, he inserted his business card to keep his page and placed the book between them. “That’s on the south side. A changing neighborhood, as they say.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that at one time it was a mostly working-class Polish area, but about ten years ago poorer minorities started moving in and the whites moved out. The elderly were pretty much left behind.” Simon started the car and guided it out of the driveway.

“Why?”

“Most of them hung on too long and when they finally wanted to move, the value of their houses had decreased so much they could no longer afford to go. Because they were on fixed incomes, they had nothing more to add to the pot.” He drove steadily, exiting onto Interstate 55.

“I figured Esther is anywhere from sixty to eighty-five. Minnie’s friend said Minnie was a senior when she went away, so she must have been about seventeen or eighteen. She’s fifty now, so this whole thing took place about thirty-three or four years ago. But if what you say about the neighborhood is true, Esther’s probably on the older end of my estimate.”

“Let me get this straight. You want to find this woman because she took care of your aunts thirty-three years ago when Minnie had a breakdown. Right?”

“Right. I’d like to know more about what everyone calls a breakdown. There are a lot of mental states that could refer to.” Skye watched as he skillfully maneuvered through the thick traffic.

“And you need to know this because . . . ?” Simon trailed off.

“Because I want to know if Minnie has a history of mental illness that would suggest she is capable of harming either herself or others.”

“You still question whether she really attempted suicide?”

“Yes, but if she did, she’s certainly a prime suspect for having also killed Grandma.” Skye was surprised at the lump that gathered in her throat and the sorrow she still felt over her grandmother’s death.

They drove in companionable silence, listening to a classical music station that Simon favored. At first Skye knew where she was, but after the third change of highway she became hopelessly lost.

When Simon finally exited onto 103rd Street, it looked as if they had traveled to another country. Signs were in Spanish, Polish, and languages she didn’t recognize.

A few turns and Simon stopped the car in front of a detached two-story home. Its siding appeared to be made of gravel and tar paper. The windows and door were heavily barred.

They climbed steep concrete steps, holding on to the black metal railing. There were two bells. Neither had a name. Skye looked at Simon, who shrugged. Taking a guess, she pressed the bottom bell and hoped for the best.

They waited. They could hear shuffling sounds that seemed to grow nearer. Finally the front door was flung open, leaving the barred storm door between them and the woman on the other side.

Her size and age were hard to determine because she was bent over with a dowager’s hump on her back. She leaned on a cane and scowled.

Skye felt herself rushing to find the right words. “Hello, my name is Skye Denison and this is my friend Simon Reid. We’re looking for Esther Prynn.”

“Yeah.”

“Are you Ms. Prynn?”

“I don’t go for that Miz crap. I’m Miss Prynn. Have been for the last seventy-five years and will be on my tombstone.”

“We’re from Scumble River. I understand you did some private duty nursing there back in the sixties.” Skye made herself sound more sure of her facts than she was.

“Maybe. Used to help out lots of folks from the country. What’s it to you?”

“Would it be possible for us to come in and discuss this? I’m sure your neighbors don’t need to know our business.” Skye put her hand on the door handle. This was sort of like a home visit. Not pleasant, but something she was trained to do.

Miss Prynn looked them both up and down, then demanded, “Let me see some identification.”

They pressed their driver’s licenses against the bars. She squinted between the tiny photos and their faces, finally unlocking the door and permitting them to pass. She carefully turned keys and bolts behind them.

Once inside, they found themselves in a small foyer with scarred wooden steps leading upstairs. To their right was another door.

It was through that portal that their hostess led them to a small living room crowded with dusty overstuffed furniture. There was one hard chair in the room, and Skye, remembering the advice of a social worker during her training, chose to sit there. Miss Prynn settled into what was obviously “her” chair, which left the couch for Simon.

“So, what’s so important? I’m missing my TV program.” Miss Prynn clutched the remote.

“Do you remember working a case in Scumble River about thirty-three years ago?” Skye sat forward.

Miss Prynn rubbed her temple. “Maybe. I worked lots of cases in that neck of the woods.”

“I was told that back in the early to mid-sixties you helped out when one of my aunts had a nervous breakdown. Her name was Minnie Leofanti.”

“Mmm, Leofanti. That name does sound familiar. But I’m remembering a different first name.” Miss Prynn stared at the blank television screen. “Name was Mona, not Minnie.”

Skye, hardly containing her excitement, struggled to keep her voice level. “Well, as I understand it, Minnie’s younger sister, Mona, accompanied her when you came for them. Could that be the mix-up?”

Miss Prynn sank back in her chair. “Sure, I remember now. Two girls, both in their teens. Pretty little things. Didn’t look at all Eyetalian like their name.”

Skye restrained herself from correcting the older woman’s pronunciation and explaining about the blonds of northern Italy. “Yes, that would be them. Do you remember where you took them for treatment?”

When Miss Prynn didn’t answer, Skye tried another question. “Do you recall what Minnie’s diagnosis was?”

Miss Prynn’s eyes took on a cunning gleam and she rubbed her hands together. “I might be able to remember. Keep all my records right here for safekeeping and I could go back and look, but you know that information is all confidential.”

“I realize that, and I understand your position. I’m a psychologist myself, but this could be a life-and-death situation. I’d be very grateful.” Skye tried to connect with her, one professional to another.

“Grateful, huh? Just how grateful would you be?” Miss Prynn’s eyes brightened.

Skye frowned. “I’m afraid I—”

Simon cut her off. “How much would it take?”

Miss Prynn smiled. “Ten thousand?”

Simon stood up and took Skye’s arm, forcing her to rise, too.

“Five thousand?” The old lady’s voice took on a whiny tone.

Taking out his wallet, Simon said, “One hundred, for your inconvenience.”

“Five hundred. It could mean my license.”

Skye found her voice. “Two-fifty. You don’t practice anymore.”

Miss Prynn fisted her hands. She looked at the shabby room and small television set. Frustration mixed with anger on her face. “Okay. You know, you’re as much of a bitch as your aunt was.”

“I don’t suppose you’ll take a check?” Skye asked, half in jest.

“Cash. Tens and twenties.” Miss Prynn stood. “I’ll dig out the file tonight. You bring the money Monday morning, first thing.”

“Why not tomorrow?” Skye frowned.

“Not on the Sabbath.” Miss Prynn locked the door behind them.

It was nearly midnight when Simon dropped Skye at her cottage. They had decided to spend the rest of the day at Lake Geneva and had taken the late dinner cruise.

Simon walked Skye to the door and took her in his arms. “What a great day. I love being near the water.”

Skye reached up and smoothed his hair back at the temple. “The company wasn’t bad either.”

He nuzzled her ear and a shiver ran down her spine. She could feel the sexual magnetism that made him so self-confident. His lips met hers and happiness filled her.

As their kiss deepened, his hand closed over her breast and she pulled away. He was so very good-looking and she reacted so strongly to him; she couldn’t let this go any further. Dark memories of her ex-fiancé surfaced. She wasn’t ready to completely trust another man.

Simon looked down at her. “What’s wrong?”

“We’re both tired. Maybe we should talk about this some other time.” Skye refused to meet his eyes.

“I’ve heard that excuse before. I think we need to get this into the open.” He waited, daring her to be honest.

Skye sat down on the concrete step. “What more is there to say? I’ve told you before I wasn’t ready for anything but a casual relationship.”

Simon joined her on the stair, his mouth spread in a thin-lipped smile. “You told me all right, but that was nine months ago. Most couples move forward, but you’re stuck in the past.”

She ducked her head. Maybe he was right. She wasn’t being very mature or very strong. But the few times she had allowed herself to be totally swept away by love had always turned out disastrously. She was afraid of her own taste in men. “I’m sorry Simon, but I’m just not ready to go through the humiliation again.”