Murder of a Bookstore Babe (20 page)

Before Bunny could say more, she caught sight of two teenagers trying to sneak into the bar and teetered off, saying over her shoulder, “I gotta take care of that. See ya later.”

“I wonder what she’s thought up this time,” Skye muttered.

“You probably don’t want to know.” Charlie shot Skye a hard look. “I’d say you have your hands full trying to get everyone’s alibis for the time that poor little gal was murdered.”

S
kye left the bowling alley at six thirty. She was thrilled that Uncle Charlie was in the clear but worried about how she would question the others. Although none of her cousins was as smart as Charlie was, they were a lot meaner. If they suspected she was interrogating them, they might kill her. Or worse, rat her out to May, who wouldn’t take kindly to her daughter trying to incriminate a family member.

With that in mind, she decided to talk to the only non-relative on her list, Tomi Jackson. Skye was fairly sure the diminutive woman wouldn’t attack her or tattle to May, but she was a little afraid that Tomi would ban her from the Feed Bag—which might be the most horrible outcome of all. Other than McDonald’s and the bowling alley, Tomi’s was the only place in town to get a meal without cooking it yourself. Unless you counted the fried chicken from the grocery store’s deli department.

Just as Skye had hoped, the Feed Bag’s parking lot was nearly empty. On weeknights the restaurant closed at seven, so only a few stragglers would be lingering over their coffee. Tomi wouldn’t be busy, and Skye wouldn’t have to find some excuse to visit her at her home.

The last time the Feed Bag had been redecorated was 1984, and the mauve paint and brass railings showed every bit of their age. More than twenty years of hard wear had taken a toll. Most of the vinyl seats had rips that had been repaired with duct tape, and the walls were pocked with dabs of color that didn’t quite match the original. The original ferns had died more than a decade ago, and the plastic plants that replaced them were faded and dusty.

Tomi greeted Skye at the door. “What are you doing here so late, honey, and all by your lonesome?” Without waiting for an answer, she seated Skye at the booth nearest the cash register, then put a hand on her hip. “You and the chief didn’t have a spat, did you?”

Ah. The joys of small-town living. “Nope. Wally’s at a meeting in Laurel, and since I’ve had a busy day”—Skye barely stopped herself from rolling her eyes at the understatement—“I thought I’d treat myself to a piece of your famous lemon meringue pie before I head on home.”

“Coming right up.”

When Tomi came back with the dessert, Skye said, “I’d love some company if you aren’t too busy.”

“Sure. Let me grab a beer.” Tomi turned and said over her shoulder, “I’ll be right back.”

Skye watched the tiny restaurateur speak to an employee, then dart into the kitchen.

When Tomi returned, she slid into the seat opposite Skye, twisted the cap from a bottle of Corona, took a long slug, wiped her mouth, and said, “I just gotta keep an eye on the register.”

“No problem.” Skye searched her mind for a topic of conversation that would lead into the questions she needed to ask. “Lots of excitement in town over that new bookstore.”

“Sure is.” Tomi patted a strand of hair back into her blond beehive. “Especially after what happened to that poor girl working there.”

“Wasn’t that a shame?” Skye cut off the tip of her pie with her fork. “Who would do such a thing?”

“Wasn’t it some burglar?”

“Maybe.” Skye chewed and swallowed. “But I wonder if it didn’t have something to do with the store.” She met Tomi’s gaze. “I hear a lot of folks in town have a beef with the owners.”

“Yeah.” Tomi straightened the name tag that pinned the handkerchief to her pink uniform. “Scumble River doesn’t like change.”

“Or competition.” Skye ate another bite of pie, letting the fluffy meringue melt on her tongue after savoring the tart lemon filling and finally the flaky crust. “Uncle Charlie said that Risé and Orlando had ticked off a lot of business owners.”

“So I hear.” Tomi narrowed her eyes. “Especially your cousin Hugo.”

“Yeah. Hard to believe someone can get so mad over something like a parking space.” Skye was careful not to show what side she was on in that dispute. “It seemed to work out all right for the grand opening. Maybe they can come to some middle ground.”

“Hugo, compromise?” Tomi snorted. “What universe are you living in?”

“Yeah, well . . .” Skye was almost done with her pie. She needed to bring the subject around to Tomi’s own gripe about the store. “So, do you think Tales and Treats’ café will lure away any of your customers?”

“Nah.” Tomi wiped the moisture ring from her beer bottle with her apron. “My regulars won’t pay four bucks for a cup of fancy coffee or want some citified pastry instead of my good old-fashioned cakes and pies.”

“I don’t know.” Skye dabbed her mouth with her napkin. “People can be fickle. They get tired of the same old, same old.”

“Maybe for a while, but they always come back to the comfortable and the familiar.” Tomi shrugged. “And money talks. Here they can have a coffee and dessert for five dollars. At Tales and Treats it’ll cost them close to double that amount.”

“True.” Skye wondered whether Charlie’s information about Tomi being mad about the store opening was wrong. But just in case, she needed to see whether Tomi had an alibi. “Wally and I came by here Saturday night for some dessert after we got back from the movie in Joliet, but the parking lot was so packed we decided not to stop. You must have been really busy.”

“Whoo-ee.” Tomi finished her beer and started toward the register, where an old man was tapping his foot impatiently. “We sure were. We had Rosella Bonucci’s retirement dinner, and she and her husband, Joe, have so many friends, no one wanted to leave. I’m usually out of here by ten on weekends, but that night I was here past midnight helping Carlos and Wanda clean up.”

After confirming with the waitress and busboy that Tomi had indeed been with them until after twelve a.m. Saturday night, Skye paid her tab and left. Another suspect was off her list. That left her cousins. How could she approach them?

Kevin was the easiest; she could claim to want to review her insurance policies. He’d been bugging her to update them, and she had been putting him off for months. With Flip, she could say she’d heard he was doing some private carpentry now and wondered if he’d have time to give her an estimate on turning one of her spare bedrooms into a home office with built-in bookshelves.

That left Hugo. She couldn’t pretend to want to buy a used car. If word got back to her dad or Charlie that she was even considering replacing the Bel Air, their feelings would be hurt. Which meant it would have to be a non-work-related reason.

She and Hugo had little in common except their genes. He was nearly ten years older than she was, and although his wife, Victoria, was closer to Skye’s age, they’d never bonded, either. Victoria’s only interest, besides her twelve-year-old son, Prescott, was maintaining her appearance. She spent all her time at hairstylists, nail salons, gyms, and tanning booths. Not places Skye often frequented, since both the cost and the time needed were prohibitive.

For the rest of Tuesday evening while Skye relaxed at home, and on and off the next day at school, she thought about how to approach Hugo. What pretext could she use? By the end of the afternoon, she’d conceded defeat. Since she couldn’t come up with an idea, she’d go see Kevin that afternoon, then Flip in the early evening, and put off Hugo until the next day. Maybe by then some excuse would occur to her.

Skye wasn’t able to leave work after the final bell, as she had planned. Instead, she was pulled into a last-minute conference regarding a student who was refusing to attend school, and by the time she’d gotten out of that discussion, she decided she’d better call Wally and let him know that both Charlie and Tomi had alibis.

Wally was in a hurry—he had to get to a meeting of the police commissioners—but he told Skye he’d assigned Martinez to check out Risé’s background, and the officer would let him know ASAP what she found out. He also mentioned that he was still waiting for the ME and crime scene reports.

Because of all the delays, it was close to four thirty when Skye arrived at Kevin’s insurance office, and she was afraid he might already have gone home.

As she locked the Bel Air, her cell phone rang. Sighing, she dug it out of the depths of her tote, checked to make sure it wasn’t her mother calling to bug her about Vince and the engagement ring, then flipped it open and said, “Hello.”

The display screen said ILLINOIS CALLER, so Skye had no idea who was on the other end until she heard, “Hi. This is Simon.” His smooth tenor was oddly soothing. “I missed you at school and didn’t know when you’d be home, so Frannie told me how to reach you.” He paused, but when Skye didn’t react—Frannie had been told not to share Skye’s cell number with Simon—he continued, “I was wondering where things stand on Kayla’s murder.”

“Couldn’t you ask Wally?” Skye pushed open the office building’s door and went in. “Or talk to the ME?”

“Boyd claims there’s nothing new.” Simon sounded unconvinced. “And the ME has promised to e-mail me his report before he leaves work today.”

“So why are you asking me?” Skye looked around the small waiting room. It was empty; even the secretary’s chair was vacant.

“Because I heard that you and Boyd talked to the librarian, and she had info about the stolen books.”

“How did you hear that?” Skye asked. Although she wasn’t surprised, she was annoyed. They’d hoped to keep Judy’s revelation a secret.

“Anthony’s mother, Sally, has been doing some of the funeral home’s paperwork for me lately.”

“Ah.” Skye didn’t bother to point out that Anthony should not have shared the info with Sally. She understood how hard it was to keep secrets from mothers. “Then you know as much as I do. Judy found the books in the library return box.”

“So is Boyd still treating the case as a burglary?” Simon asked.

“Not entirely,” Skye admitted. “We’re checking to see if anyone wanted Kayla dead.”

She felt a little guilty leaving out the fact that she believed the intended victim was Risé, but until she’d cleared her own family, she wasn’t willing to share that little detail with anyone other than the person in charge of the investigation. The fact that that individual happened to be her fiancé was just a happy coincidence.

“Any luck?”

“Not so far.” Skye shifted impatiently from foot to foot. “Have you found out any more about whatever Xavier is keeping secret?”

“No.” Simon sounded frustrated. “He’s as tightlipped as a Swiss banker.”

“I’m sorry to rush you, but I really need to go. I’m late for an appointment.” Skye walked over to the closed office door. “Is there anything else?”

“I guess not.” There was a long silence, and she almost thought he had hung up when he said wistfully, “I suppose you’re busy tonight.”

“Yes.” Skye wrinkled her nose. “Believe it or not, Wally and I are going to the grand reopening of the Scumble River Roller Skating Rink.”

“You’re full of surprises lately,” Simon commented. “I won’t say have a good time. I can’t imagine that. How about don’t break a leg?”

“Thanks. Bye.” Frowning, she flipped the phone closed. Wally had said she was full of surprises recently, too. Had she been that predictable before? Vowing to be more spontaneous, she turned back to the door and knocked on the fake wood panel.

A voice yelled, “Come in.” Kevin was sitting at his desk. He looked up and said, “Skye, what are you doing here?” Apparently realizing that wasn’t a very welcoming way to greet both a client and a cousin, he smiled and added hastily, “Have a seat.”

“I thought we could do that insurance review you’ve been reminding me about,” Skye answered. “Unless you don’t have time?”

“Well . . .” He glanced at his watch. “Ilene is expecting me home for supper pretty soon.”

“Maybe I could just update my info, and you could get back to me?”

“Sure.” Kevin unsuccessfully hid his irritation. “Let me turn the computer back on and bring up your file.”

While Kevin’s attention was focused on the PC, Skye said, as casually as she could manage, “I hear you have some new clients. I’m glad the bookstore owners are supporting local businesses.”

“Yeah.” He glanced at her distractedly as he moved his mouse around waiting for the monitor to come to life. “But I don’t know if they’ll continue to use local people. The wife wasn’t too happy with me.”

“Why not?” Skye smiled inwardly.
Jackpot!
This was exactly what she wanted to talk to him about.

“She accused me of pulling a bait and switch because the premium was more than I originally quoted.” He frowned at the blank blue screen and anxiously tapped a couple of keys. “But it wasn’t my fault. She failed to mention they would be renting out two of their upstairs rooms as B and Bs. The liability involved in having paying guests increased the cost of the insurance.”