Murder of a Botoxed Blonde (22 page)

Skye bit her lip. Okay. She would take just a little peek—first the cottage on her right, then the one on her left. No matter what she saw, she would not do anything to reveal her presence. She stepped off the paving stones and the mulch underfoot felt like a sponge. Someone must have just watered the area.

Trying not to disturb any of the newly planted landscape, she tiptoed to one of the illuminated windows. The interior wooden shutters were half open, but tipped down. Drat. All she could see were two pair of feet. One was clad in expensive looking high-heeled sandals and the other in dirty generic tennis shoes. Evidently, Frisco’s tryst in the garage was not the only one going on at the spa that night. But who were these participants?

This wasn’t getting her anywhere. Maybe one of the other windows would afford a better view. She squished her
way around the cottage and peered into that window, but the shutters were completely closed.

As she rounded the third side, she noticed the window was open a crack and over the faint strands of a golden oldie a female voice said, “See, isn’t this nicer than going to McDonald’s? We can be alone here, listen to good music, and I packed you a little snack.”

An adolescent male voice answered, “This is mighty fine, but I want to take you out soes all my friends can see me with you.”

“But, sweetie, I’ll be fired if Margot finds out about us. We already had one close call.”

Skye bit her lip. Good grief! The male speaking was Elvis Doozier, and she was ninety-nine percent sure the female was Amber Ferguson. Did that mean that Amber had been lying about Elvis stalking her? Was the sophisticated technician really dating a country bumpkin?

Skye took another step forward. She was nearly to the open window when a hand came down on her shoulder and she screamed. It was only one sharp squeal, but in the nanosecond it took for her to whirl around, identify the owner of the hand as Simon, and look back, the light in both cottages had been extinguished. Next she heard the music cut off in midbeat, two doors slam, and the sound of running footsteps.

Skye tried to run after at least one of them but Simon grabbed her by the upper arms.

She wiggled. “Let me go.”

“First, tell me what’s going on.”

Tilting her head to look at him, she said, “There were lights in these cottages, and they’re supposed to be unoccupied. I was trying to see who was using them.”

“Why do you care?”

She thought quickly, and lied, “It could be the vandal and/or treasure hunters.” She felt him relax and demanded, “Now, would you please take your hands off me, before they all get away?”

Simon released her, and she ran in the direction one of the sets of footsteps had gone, following the disturbed earth
until she came to the path where there was nothing left to track.

She was stamping her feet, mostly to get the dirt off of them, but also in exasperation, when Simon caught up with her. “Sorry about that. I had no idea you were still investigating, since the murderer confessed.”

This time she said, “Yeah, what with the murder and all, we sort of forgot the vandal/treasure hunter, but when I saw the lights on in cottages that were supposed to be empty, they reminded me.”

“Don’t you think the protestors were probably behind the vandal’s activities?” Simon plucked a pine needle from Skye’s hair.

“I haven’t really thought about it.” She shrugged. “Like I said, I forgot about the whole vandal/treasure hunter business until I saw the lights just now.” Skye glanced down and noticed that Simon’s pants legs were muddy. She pointed to them and asked, “How did you get so dirty? It couldn’t have been just following me off the path, because only your shoes would be soiled.”

“Uh.” An embarrassed expression stole across Simon’s face. “Well, you see, I thought I had figured out the riddle, so since I got here a little early, I was looking for the hidden jewelry.”

“Really? On private property?” Skye didn’t think that sounded like the Simon she knew.

“I have Margot and Creighton’s permission, as long as I give them half of whatever I find.” Simon finished brushing off his pants legs and folded away his handkerchief. “They want the treasure found so that everyone will quit bothering them.”

“I can understand their reasoning.” Skye finished scraping the muck from her shoes. “Did you find it?”

“No,” Simon answered, then asked, “Do you still want to take a ride, or would you rather do this some other time?”

“It’s better that we talk sooner rather than later. May is already jumping to conclusions, and Bunny’s hopping close behind. She tried to give me advice this afternoon
concerning your various ‘appetites.”’ Skye looked around. “In fact, let’s get out of here before someone spots us.”

They made it to Simon’s Lexus without being intercepted and Simon asked, “Is there any place special you want to go?”

“Are you hungry?” Skye knew that Simon often didn’t eat before a funeral, preferring to have dinner after he finished work. “I’m starving, the food at the spa is awful, but it’s after ten o’clock and I can’t think of anywhere nearby that’s open this late.”

“There’s that truck stop about ten miles north on I-55. Their restaurant is open twenty-four hours. Would that be okay?”

“Fine.” Skye could already taste the homemade pie for which that restaurant was locally famous. “We shouldn’t run into anyone we know there.”

“I wouldn’t think so.”

Skye gazed at Simon’s handsome face, bathed in a golden glow by the moonlight pouring into the car window. She had no idea where to start the conversation they needed to have, and he seemed as much at a loss for words as she was. How had they ever become so estranged?

Before they left, Skye asked Simon to stop at the gate so she could tell the security officers about the reporter and the lights in the cottages. The guards promised to send a patrol to look around the grounds, and Skye relaxed as they exited the estate.

As they drove toward the diner, Skye thought of all that had happened since the summer. Suddenly she remembered the gift Simon had sent at the end of September and said, “Thank you for the book.”

He glanced over at her. It was the most intimate action he had committed since picking her up. “You said
Little Women
was your favorite book as a child, so when I saw it in a used book store in California, I thought of you.”

“That was sweet.”

“I’m not sure that’s a good thing.” This time his glance lingered; but not long enough to make her uncomfortable. He was a master of the art of making his meaning clear without
being direct. “Sweet doesn’t seem to be what you want anymore.”

Skye didn’t respond, and neither of them said anything else until they arrived at the restaurant. Simon walked her to the door with his hand resting lightly on the small of her back. He was smooth, there were no rough edges on Simon, and just maybe that wasn’t a good thing either.

Once they were seated, Skye was surprised to see a number of customers present despite the late hour. The waitress brought them menus, glasses of water, and poured coffee in the cups already on the table.

She was a short woman in her late fifties or early sixties, nearly as wide as she was tall, but light on her feet. She had nut-brown, curly hair and wore a pink nylon uniform dress with
masie
embroidered above her left breast. She greeted many of the customers like regulars, and offered a friendly smile and pieces of pie to the others.

After making the rounds, refilling water glasses and coffee cups, she came back to take their order, then Skye and Simon sat in silence.

The stillness grew to an uncomfortable length until finally they both couldn’t stand it and tried to talk at once. “Are you—?” “I wonder—”

They both stopped and said, “You first.” “No, you.”

Skye chuckled uneasily. “I insist. What were you about to say?”

“I just wanted to ask if you were enjoying the spa, despite the murder, of course.”

“Not really,” Skye confessed. “Some of the treatments are pleasant, and the people are fun, but I’m not really a spa kind of girl.”

“This one sounds sort of regimented. Bunny was telling me about the enforced diet. You’d probably like the more resortlike spas better.”

Skye nodded.

“What were you going to say?”

“I can’t remember.” Skye gave a nervous laugh. “As May would say, it must have been a lie.”

Masie arrived just then with their Diet Cokes, toasted cheese sandwiches, and bowls of tomato soup.

Skye gazed at the food, then at Simon, remembering that they often seemed to be on the same wavelength, ordering the same food at restaurants. She took a bite of her sandwich, hoping he would start the conversation.

Simon cleared his throat, opened his mouth, then seemed to change his mind. “Pass the pepper, please.”

She handed him the shaker and sighed, trying to weigh the whole structure of events and in spite of everything, came up with the same unanswered question. “What I still don’t understand is why you couldn’t just tell me Spike is your half sister.”

“Because I promised her.” The corner of his mouth twisted in exasperation. “What’s so difficult to understand about that?”

Skye felt a scream of frustration at the back of her throat, but swallowed it. “I’m a psychologist. I’m trained to keep secrets. I would never, ever break confidentiality. You could have told me.”

His voice was heavy with sarcasm. “So you get to maintain confidentiality, whereas it’s okay for me to tell?” He was normally a careful man, but that veneer was starting to crack.

“Yes.” Skye stared into his golden hazel eyes, trying to understand her perplexing gamut of emotions. “I’m not just anyone. At least I thought I wasn’t. I thought I was someone special—the other half of your whole. The one person you would never keep any secrets from.”

“Everyone has secrets.” Simon pushed his plate away. “The relationship you’re describing doesn’t exist, except maybe in those romance books you like to read. I love you, but I don’t delude myself into thinking you’re my soul mate.”

The cynicism of his statement grated on her. She took a calming breath, afraid she would start crying, and he would think she was weak. “It seems we disagree on the very nature and meaning of love.”

“No, we don’t.” His disparaging stare drilled into her. “If
you really and truly think two people can be meant for each other and no else, how could you start seeing Boyd so quickly once we broke up?”

“Maybe I was wrong about who my soul mate is, but I’m not wrong that there is one person who completes you.”

“Then you’re saying that even though you know I was innocent, that I didn’t cheat on you, that I still love you,” his tone was bleak, “you’re not willing to give our relationship a second chance?”

“It’s too late. You should have told me right away.” Skye refused to meet his stare. “You shouldn’t have made this a test of my trust for you. That wasn’t fair.”

“A fair is the place you go to eat too much cotton candy; it has nothing to do with real life.”

The few bites of her sandwich and sips of her soup she had taken lay like balls of lead in her stomach. “You don’t know how tempted I am to go back and pick up where we left off, but that’s because our relationship made me feel comfortable. There weren’t real lows, but there weren’t real highs either.”

“That’s why our relationship is worth saving.”

“I just don’t know how two people can look at the same thing and see something totally different.” Skye twisted her napkin. “Now I realize that the reason our relationship was on such an even keel was that you kept secret anything you thought might be bothersome.”

“Maybe I did that because you told me too much.” His expression hardened. “I heard every word your mom said to you, every detail about your job, what all your friends were doing. Even when Bingo caught a mouse it became part of Skye’s six o’clock news.”

“I thought you liked to hear my funny stories.” She was too stunned by his attack to say more.

“When you first moved back here, you were interested in the world. Now all you talk about is Scumble River. I thought we’d travel the globe, maybe even sell the funeral home at some point and move somewhere exciting. But now, I’m pretty sure you’d never leave, because where else could
you run around pretending to be everyone’s guardian angel? Why do you need to be the one to right every wrong?”

“You don’t like that I share my day with you, that I’m happy living in my hometown, and that I try to help people when I’m able?” His contemptuous tone sparked her anger. “Yet, prior to today, you never even gave me a hint this was how you felt? Is that right?”

“You’re twisting what I said.” His lips thinned and he narrowed his eyes.

“No, I’m just showing you something you don’t want to see,” she countered icily.

“Right.” Simon’s tone was sarcastic. “Or are you making things up because you’ve already moved on and don’t want to repair our relationship? You’ve always been attracted to Boyd and now you have him. Is the sex enough to make up for everything else?”

“Now you’re the one twisting things,” she said in a choked voice, guilt swelling inside her, threatening to spill out. “We’re not, I mean, that’s not…” She trailed off, then noticed the look of derision in his eye. She straightened her back and said coldly, “I’m free, way over twenty-one, and have no commitment to you or anyone else. I can do
what
I want with
whom
I please.”

“Yes, I guess you can.” Simon stood up and threw a twenty-dollar bill on the table. “Maybe when you get tired of playing cops and robbers with Boyd, you’ll see what I’ve been trying to say. And maybe, when you finally come to your senses, I’ll still care. Or maybe not.”

The shock of his words held her immobile.

He stood there, tall and impatient. “Are you coming?”

“No. Go ahead without me.”

“I’m not leaving you stranded here.”

“Suit yourself.” Skye picked up her spoon and dipped it into her soup bowl. “But I’m not riding with you.”

He glared at her, swore, then whirled around and marched out of the diner, his footsteps sounding like firecrackers on the linoleum.