Murder of a Bookstore Babe (21 page)

“Did you explain that to her?” Skye crossed her legs. “Or wouldn’t she listen?”

“I told her and she seemed okay.” Kevin smiled as the computer monitor filled with data. “But you never know if people believe you or not. And I’m afraid she might bad-mouth me around town.”

“Risé doesn’t strike me as the type.” Skye watched her cousin closely. “And you know it wouldn’t hurt you with your other clients.”

“Probably not.” Kevin rubbed his chin. “Scumble Riverites know I’m trustworthy.”

Skye nodded, then said, “But your company
will
have to pay for the damages from the break-in, right?”

“Yes.” Kevin jotted a few notes on a yellow pad. “But since the rare books were recovered, the rest is fairly minor. It might not end up being more than their deductible, so they may decide not to even file a claim.”

“That would be good for you.” Skye watched Kevin’s expression closely. “But how about the dead girl? Won’t her family sue?”

“Maybe, but there hasn’t been any hint of that yet.” Kevin scratched his head. “And since she was there after hours, we might be able to argue she wasn’t acting as their employee at the time of her death.”

“Great.” Skye forced herself to sound happy for Kevin, but she hated the thought that the insurance company might wiggle out of paying Kayla’s family for her loss.

“Okay. I’ve got your file up. Let’s get started.” Kevin’s voice became all business. “How many auto accidents have you had in the past year?”

Once Skye had given Kevin all her new info, he stood up and escorted her to the door. “I’ll get back to you tomorrow with my recommendations regarding your up-to-date insurance needs, but offhand, I’d say there shouldn’t be much change.” He grinned. “Especially since you stopped totaling cars.”

“None of those was my fault,” Skye reminded him as they walked into the reception area. She had been wracking her brains to figure out a way to ask Kevin about an alibi. “Say, did you and Ilene go to that party Saturday night she was telling me about?”

“What party?” Kevin looked confused. “We were away for the weekend at an insurance convention in St. Louis. We drove down Friday night and didn’t get home until Monday afternoon. Maybe that’s what she meant.”

“Yeah.” Skye hated lying, even if it was for a good cause. “I must have gotten confused.” She waved and left, saying, “Talk to you later.”

Once she was in her car, she made a quick call to Kevin’s wife, wanting to confirm his alibi before he got home and talked to her. Skye’s excuse was that she and Wally were thinking of taking a few days off, which was true, and she wondered if Ilene had enjoyed her weekend in St. Louis. Ilene assured Skye she’d had a wonderful time there.

Crossing Kevin off her suspect list, Skye drove home to grab a quick bite and change for her date. She had two more cousins to go, and if she hurried, she’d have time to drop by Flip’s house on the way to the skating rink. Now, if she could only figure out a reason to talk to Hugo.

B
ingo greeted Skye as she stepped inside her foyer. Once he’d had a sufficient number of chin scratches, he turned his back on her and marched into the kitchen. She found him sitting by his food dish, staring at it as if it might magically fill up on its own.

Skye fed the demanding cat, then made herself a toasted cheese sandwich and a bowl of tomato soup. She quickly devoured her meal, while sorting the mail into bills she could pay this month and those that would have to return to the end of the line.

As she climbed the stairs to change clothes, Bingo did figure eights between her legs. She enjoyed the feel of his soft fur against her ankles, but when she nearly tripped, she ordered him to stop.

He ignored her, and she finally scooped him up and carried him with her into the bedroom, muttering to him, “How is it that you can hear me open a can of Fancy Feast from anywhere in the house, but can’t hear a simple command a few feet from your ears?”

After depositing the purring feline on her bed, Skye stood in front of her closet and pondered a question she never thought she’d ask herself as an adult. What does one wear to a party at a skating rink?

Wally had explained that the owner was an old friend of his, and he wanted to show his support. Milton Leigh had owned the rink from 1988 until 1999 but sold the business five years ago. Recently, he had repurchased it and restored the interior rink to its former glory. Milton was hoping the enterprise would be profitable enough to allow him to refurbish the exterior next. His goal was to do so within a year.

Considering all the family get-togethers Wally had attended for Skye, and all he’d need to be present at in the future, she was happy to accompany him tonight. Still, that didn’t solve her clothing dilemma.

As she stared at the garments arranged in neat rows by category, color, and season, she dialed Vince’s cell. Skye had been trying to reach him since yesterday, but all she ever got at any of his numbers was his voice mail, and so far despite the urgency of the messages she’d left, he hadn’t called back. She wanted to let him know about May’s knowledge of his engagement ring purchase herself, rather than trying to explain to a machine.

Once again her call went directly to his voice mail. Even though she knew Vince didn’t answer his phone when he was working on someone’s hair, and he was notoriously bad about responding to messages, this was getting ridiculous. Was he avoiding her? But why? Or was something wrong? Should she be worried?

Maybe Vince was in Chicago with Loretta, and he wasn’t getting a signal. For some strange reason, it seemed that cell phones that worked perfectly fine in Scumble River didn’t work at all in the city, and vice versa. Skye actually knew a few people who had two cell phones, one for around home and one for outside of town.

With that in mind, Skye decided to wait until tomorrow to worry about Vince. Now all she had to figure out was what to wear. She pushed the hangers back and forth, waiting for inspiration. The first blouse she grabbed was dirty. Why hadn’t she put it in the hamper? Oh, yeah. It was marked hand wash and air dry, which meant she’d probably get around to laundering it about the same time her first grandchild was born.

As she shoved back the soiled shirt, her new black tunic sweater slipped to the floor.
Aha!
That had to be a sign. She slipped it over her head, then after pulling on black jeans and ankle boots, she looked in the mirror. Not bad, but the outfit needed something. She tried a couple of necklaces, then a scarf, but nothing was exactly right.

Finally she remembered the belt. It would be ideal. She’d been cleaning out one of the many trunks in the attic when she found it. At first she was sure it would never fit. When she held it up, it definitely looked too small to go around her. Skye loved vintage clothing, but most items were not made for a woman with curves.

However, when she tried it on, the silver links that resembled scales encircled her waist with room to spare. And as she slid the tab into the snakehead to fasten it, the belt felt as if it had been made for her. The emerald eyes looked up at her, and she could have sworn the reptile was smiling.

After flatironing her curls into submission, applying a fresh coat of mascara, and putting on a swipe of peach lip gloss, Skye checked the time. It was six eighteen. She had to hustle if she wanted to talk to Flip
and
be on time to meet Wally at the skating rink.

 

Skye was a little apprehensive about appearing unexpectedly at her cousin Ginger’s door. They didn’t get along all that well, and she wasn’t sure of her welcome.

But as soon as she explained she was there to offer Flip a job, Ginger’s big blue eyes gleamed, and she swept Skye inside. “Come in, come in. With J and A Builders declaring bankruptcy, he could definitely use some work. Flip’s a good carpenter, but the only other box that could be marked with a plus on his report card would be ‘drinks well with others.’”

Skye let her cousin’s last comment go by without a response and said, “I’m happy he’s free but sorry he’s out of a job.” She hugged Ginger. “The developer he was working for went out of business?”

“Yeah.” Ginger ushered her into the family room. “A few months ago. I can’t believe you didn’t hear about it. It was in the
Star
.”

“Really?” Skye usually read the local newspaper from cover to cover, but during the summer, when she had been working as the wedding planner for her California cousin, she hadn’t had time even to glance at the front page. “I must have missed it. I’m surprised Mom never said anything.”

“Sit down.” Ginger nearly pushed Skye into an itchy plaid-covered chair next to where Flip was seated in his camouflage recliner. He was absorbed in solving the puzzle on
Wheel of Fortune
and didn’t appear aware she was in the room. “I’m surprised too,” Ginger added. “Aunt May wouldn’t have ignored that nugget on the gossip circuit.”

“I was sorry he wasn’t available last summer when I had my master bath remodeled. I know what a good job he does.” Skye settled into the cushiony seat. “So when I heard he did some work for the owners of Tales and Treats, I thought maybe J and A had relaxed their rules and he could do my office.” Skye looked questioningly at Flip.

Ginger stepped behind her husband. “Pay attention. Skye wants to hire you.”

Skye winced at the hollow sound as Ginger thumped the top of his head with her knuckle. Flip’s hair was doing what Skye called a balderdash—a race to the receding line.

Flip continued to ignore his wife, and before Ginger smacked him again, Skye hurriedly said, “I can wait until the commercial.”

“Okay.” Ginger seemed to remember her manners. “Can I get you something? Beer, wine, or I could whip us up some margaritas.”

“A glass of water would be great.” It was hot in the room, and Skye’s mouth was dry. “With ice, if it’s not too much trouble.”

“No problem. We got a new fridge with an ice maker in the door. It’ll just take a second.” Ginger turned to leave but pointed over her shoulder. “There are photo albums on the shelf there if you want to take a look at some of the work Flip’s done.”

Once Ginger disappeared into the kitchen, Skye looked around. The furniture was mostly Early American, with braided rugs scattered over the scuffed hardwood floors. Hanging over the center of the room was a chandelier made of deer antlers. It rotated slowly, as if to silent music. The walls were covered with stuffed animal heads, bows, arrows, and a variety of guns, and every flat surface was plastered with pictures of Ginger and Flip’s three children—Bert, Dwayne, and Iris.

Skye guessed this was Flip’s kingdom. It had probably been decorated when the family had moved in fifteen years ago and not touched since.

Ginger returned just as the volume of the TV increased, indicating that the program had gone to a commercial. She shouted over the frenetic music, “Turn that thing down and talk to Skye. She has a job for you.” Ginger handed Skye the glass of ice water, grabbed the remote from her husband, and muted the set. “Men.”

“Son of a b—” Flip appeared to see Skye for the first time and interrupted himself. “Oh. Hi.”

“Hi.” Skye snuck a peek at her watch. She needed to get going soon. “I’m hoping you can turn one of my spare bedrooms into an office. You know, with bookshelves and a built-in desk?”

“I can do that.” Flip leaned back and folded his hands across his stomach. “Want me to come over Monday afternoon and take a look?”

“That would be great.” Skye nodded. “I usually get home about four.” This was her opening, and she laid her trap. “I wasn’t sure if you were finished with the job at Tales and Treats. I thought they might have some repairs for you to do after the break-in.”

“Hell, no!” Flip smacked the arm of his recliner, causing the can of beer in the built-in holder to tremble. “I wouldn’t work for that woman again if she paid double, triple, golden overtime.”

“Risé was hard to work for?” Skye asked innocently, not letting on how much she knew. “I’m surprised her husband didn’t handle the remodeling.”

“He never showed his face. I guess he was too busy baking. And she was a bitch on wheels.” Flip banged down the footrest of his chair. “Then after all the crap I took from her, she tried to stiff me.”

“She wouldn’t pay?”

“She wanted me to take a personal check.” Flip was a big, hulking man, and when he marched over to the coffee table where Ginger had tossed the remote control, the floor shook. “But I told her if it’s not from a local bank, I need cash.”

He resembled the massive stuffed bear that guarded a corner of the family room, and Skye stared at his hands as he fondled the remote. “Did she agree?” Skye asked. His fingers were as large as full-size Snickers bars.

“No. She got all snippy, and I had to tell her I wouldn’t sign off for the building inspection without my money.” Flip stomped back to his La-Z-Boy.

“What happened?” Skye wondered whether Risé thought Flip wouldn’t accept her check because he was planning to cheat on his taxes. The bookstore owner struck her as someone who wouldn’t put up with someone defrauding the government.

“She told me to come back the next morning, which I did, and she had the dough.” He flopped down on the recliner, chugged the rest of his beer, crushed the can when he finished, then turned the TV’s sound back on.

“So you were paid?”

“Yeah. We’re square.”

“That’s good.”
Phew!
As long as he got his money, Flip didn’t have much of a motive to want Risé dead. It wasn’t as if he
had
to work for her ever again. He wasn’t a complex enough person to hold that kind of grudge. Now all she needed was his alibi.

“Ginger”—Skye turned to her cousin—“your mom said you and Flip went to a big party Saturday night.” She decided to try a variation of the same ruse that had worked with Kevin. “Did you have a good time?”