Murder of a Sweet Old Lady (3 page)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I should call Father Burns.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Simon? It’s Skye.”

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

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

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

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

“I’m so sorry. Are you alone?”

“Yes.”

“Have you called anyone else?”

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

“Sit tight. I’ll be right there.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Skye nodded. “Thanks, Wally.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

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

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