Murder of a Sweet Old Lady (6 page)

Chief Boyd allowed them to digest what he had said a little longer, then went on. “We have put an all points bulletin out on the housekeeper. Now, you can all understand when I ask you to leave this house immediately. We will need to keep it secured until we know if it is a crime scene or not, so please do not return without my permission. Also, anyone who went into any room besides the kitchen tonight, please stay behind for a few minutes.”

Some grumbled, but everyone started to gather their belongings and move toward the door. As they formed a natural line, Wally stopped each one of them and asked them to come into the police station the next day to make a statement.

Mona, Ginger, and Hugo admitted to taking a chair from the dining room, but stated they’d gone no farther into the house.

Everyone else had left by the time the Denisons reached the front of the line. Jed, Vince, and May had been through the entire house except the bedrooms. Skye, of course, had been everywhere.

When he heard this, Chief Boyd shook his head. “Okay, well, Skye, I guess that means first thing tomorrow we fingerprint you.”

“Great. When’s first thing to you guys?”

“How about eight?” He didn’t look up from the notes he was taking.

“How about nine?” Skye wasn’t a morning person, and since she’d be taking a personal day due to her grandmother’s death, it would be nice to sleep in a little. She felt tired to the bone.

“Eight. Don’t push it.” He slapped the notebook shut. “Come on, folks, it’s time to leave.” He shepherded them all down the stairs.

After they all shuffled outside, May fetched the hidden key and handed it to the chief, who turned it in the lock. He then went to his car and took a roll of barricade tape out of the trunk. Tearing off a couple of strips, he put them in an X across the front and back doors.

They walked toward their vehicles, everyone having driven separately. Simon accompanied Skye to her car, which was parked in a dark corner beside the garage. As they reached it she noticed that something didn’t look right.

Simon put his hand on her elbow. “I’m surprised your grandmother didn’t have a yard light. Almost everyone in the country does.”

“She does.” Frowning, Skye looked up and pointed. “It must be burnt out.”

“Can you see to unlock your door?”

“It’s not locked. I never lock my door when I’m on the farm.”

“Why? Don’t you think criminals can drive on a gravel road?”

“No, smarty. It’s a habit. On a farm, machinery is always being moved in and out and they have to be able to move the cars to get around.”

“So, you leave the keys in too?”

“Yeah, most of the time.”

“That is really dumb in this day and age.”

“Look, things are different on a farm. I know it doesn’t seem like it now, but usually . . . It’s hard to explain to a city boy. Can we do this a different time? Say anytime except right after my grandmother’s been murdered.” Skye felt tears pushing to overflow but forced them back.

“Fine.”

Her eyes had adjusted to the dark as they stood talking, and what she saw made her gasp.

Simon grabbed her arm. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh my God. My tires.” Skye pointed to the four flats on her car.

“Shit.” Simon walked around the vehicle.

“They couldn’t all go flat at the same time.” Skye moved closer, trying to get a better look.

“No, they couldn’t. Someone slashed them on purpose.”

 

Skye leaned her head on the leather seat back of Simon’s Lexus. The chief had told Skye he would dust the Buick for prints immediately, but she could wait and fill out a vandalism report when she came in to the police station the following morning. Jed had insisted he would get the tires fixed first thing the next day. Skye hadn’t been able to convince her father that she was capable of arranging for her tires to be replaced herself. And she was too tired to argue for long.

The country roads were dark and Skye almost dozed until Simon stopped for the traffic signal at Maryland and Basin Streets. She shook her head; the only stoplight in town and she always managed to find it on red.

Basin Street, Scumble River’s main thoroughfare, consisted of a six-block area that housed most of the town’s smaller businesses, including the bank and the dry cleaner. Larger establishments, such as the supermarket and hardware store, had moved to the outskirts about ten years earlier in search of parking.

As the Lexus turned onto Stebler, the streetlights became fewer and fewer until they disappeared completely by the time Simon pulled into Skye’s street. She rented a small river cottage from a divorced couple who couldn’t decide who should get ownership. The cottage was ideal for Skye, and she hoped the couple wouldn’t settle their differences until she was able to save some money, find another job, and make her escape from Scumble River.

Simon parked in her driveway and turned to Skye. “Would you like me to come in?”

She frowned, misunderstanding his intent. “I’m really tired and just want to go to sleep.”

He raised an eyebrow. “That’s fine, but wouldn’t you feel better, after all that’s happened, if I made sure the place is safe?”

Skye began to slide out of the car. “Oh, well thanks, but I can take care of myself.”

Simon followed her, watching as she tried unsuccessfully to fit the key in the lock. “Look, your tires were slashed and you’re the one ruffling everyone’s feathers about your grandmother’s death. Don’t you think there might be a connection?”

“Okay, you’re probably right. I’m too tired to think straight.”

The door finally opened and Skye trudged wearily inside. On her way into the great room that acted as her living and dining areas, she threw her purse on a table.

She watched Simon scan the room. It was half of the large octagon shape that made up the cottage. The outer arc was comprised of windows and sliding glass doors that faced the river. He made sure they were all locked, with bars across their tracks, before moving on. Skye trailed behind him.

The bedroom was a quarter of the octagon and also had a set of sliding glass doors with windows on either side looking over the water. He secured these and checked out the closet and bathroom.

The only remaining space was the small kitchen/utility area that looked out on the driveway, and the half bath off the foyer. Both were empty.

Skye, following Simon, bumped into him when he stopped in the foyer. “Sorry.”

He put his arms around her. “Make sure you turn the dead bolt and put on the chain when I leave.”

Skye nodded mutely, having trouble keeping her eyelids open.

Simon kissed her softly on the lips. “I’ll call you tomorrow after you’ve been to the police station.” He turned and spoke over his shoulder as he went through the door. “Don’t forget you’re supposed to be there at eight.”

Skye locked up behind him, turned, and made her way into the master bathroom.
I should take a shower.
She stripped off her clothes and stuffed them into the hamper.
At least, I should wash my face.
Grabbing her nightgown off the hook behind the door, she slipped it over her head.
It would take only a second to put on some Fruition lotion.
She sank into her pillows.
Esteé Lauder would be so disappointed in me . . .

 

Her alarm buzzed at six, its usual time. Skye reached out and slapped it off. A few seconds later she forced herself out of bed and grabbed the telephone. After letting the schools know she wouldn’t be in due to a death in the family, she crawled back between the sheets.

The next time she awoke, the numbers on her clock radio glowed seven-thirty. She leaped out of bed and into the shower, stripping off her nightgown on the way. The hot water revived her and she soaped, shampooed, and rinsed quickly.

After toweling her body and hair, she threw on underclothes then stood at her closet, stymied. What should she wear to be fingerprinted, taking into account it was the day after her grandmother died and it was going to be hotter than heck out?

As she contemplated her inadequate wardrobe, her glance fell on the clock. Damn, she was going to be late and she still hadn’t done her hair or put on any makeup.

Skye dialed the nonemergency number for the police. She had it memorized since she often called her mother when May was working at the station.

Thea Jones, another of Scumble River’s dispatchers, answered. At the sound of Skye’s voice she said, “Oh, honey, I’m so sorry for your family. You know, we all love May. She’s gonna take it real hard. She was real close to her mama.”

“Thanks, Thea. Could you let Chief Boyd know I’m going to be a little late? He wanted me there at eight, but it doesn’t look like I’m going to make it until eight-thirty or quarter to nine.” Skye stretched the cord and grabbed a black-and-white gingham skort outfit from her closet.

“Sure, honey. You take your time. That man ain’t got nothin’ else to do anyways.”

The doorbell rang as Skye hung up the phone. She grabbed her robe and fought her way into it as she ran to the foyer. May’s face was framed in the side window.

Skye released all the locks and ushered her mother inside. “Hi, what are you doing here so early?” As soon as the words passed her lips, she knew it was the wrong thing to say.

“Early? You call five to eight early? We’ve got to do something about those slovenly habits you picked up in New Orleans.”

Skye edged back toward her bedroom. “Okay, okay. What’s up?”

“I came to drive you to the police station. Your dad’s still working on the tires.” May followed closely on Skye’s heels. “What are you wearing?” May was dressed impeccably in navy cotton slacks and a white blouse.

Skye held up the ensemble she had picked out.

May puckered her mouth. “You know, honey, since you’ve gained weight, do you really think you should wear things that are sleeveless and above the knee?”

Skye frowned. About eighteen months ago she had decided to exit from the diet roller coaster. At first she had gained quite a bit of weight, but then she’d reached her setpoint. She exercised regularly and now felt comfortable with who she was.

Ignoring her mother, Skye took the outfit and walked into the bathroom. When she emerged twenty minutes later, she was wearing her original choice, had styled her hair in a French braid, and wore her usual makeup.

May didn’t comment.

 

Thea grabbed May in a hug as soon as Skye and her mother entered the police station, then drew May behind the counter, sat her down, and began to converse in low tones. Skye was left to find Chief Boyd on her own.

Obviously, Tuesdays were slow days for criminal activity in Scumble River. The building seemed deserted and so quiet that Skye could hear the rustle of paper as she approached the chief’s office.

He looked up as she entered. “Glad you could finally find time in your busy schedule for us.”

Sighing, Skye sat on one of the visitor chairs. “Sorry. I’m sure you don’t want to hear the litany of excuses any more than I want to go through them.”

Chief Boyd made a note in a file and stuck it in a drawer. “You’re right. I’m in a bad mood today and didn’t mean to take it out on you. Let’s start over.”

She wiggled, trying to get comfortable in the cracked leather seat. “Thanks. How come you’re in a bad mood? I hope it’s not because I insisted on an autopsy for my grandmother.”

“No, personal problems.” His face closed and he lost all expression.

Skye knew he and his wife, Darleen, had been having difficulties with their marriage for the last year or so, but she thought things had gotten better. “I know how tough that can be. Maybe you both should talk to a counselor.”

“Are you volunteering your services as a psychologist?” He raised an eyebrow.

Blushing, Skye shook her head. “No. I’m only qualified to work with children and their parents. But I could give you a name of a very good therapist who specializes in couples.”

He moved around the desk and sat on the edge. His knees were a fraction of an inch from hers. “I thought maybe you couldn’t take the case because you were too close to the people involved.”

Turning a deeper shade of red, Skye tried to find the words to answer him. “Well, ah, that too. After all, I’ve known you since I was a teenager and I work with Darleen.”

She felt herself getting lost in the depth of his brown eyes. It felt as if something were sitting on her chest. Of all the men she knew, why did this one have to be married?

The sound of a throat being cleared in the doorway stopped her before she could speak.

Skye’s eyes darted in that direction, and she met her mother’s worried gaze. She stood up and turned to May. “Mom, we were, ah, filling out the report about my tires.”

May smiled thinly. “Fine. I’ll help.”

Chief Boyd went back behind his desk and pulled out a partially completed form. “So, Skye, give me a list of all the people you’ve recently infuriated.”

There Was a Crooked Man

The phone was ringing as Skye unlocked the door to her cottage later that morning.

She hesitated, figuring it was either more bad news or one of her relatives calling to yell at her about last night.

Tugging Skye’s arm, May pulled them both into the kitchen. “You’d better hurry and answer the phone before they hang up.”

She sighed, and lifted the receiver. After a few minutes of conversation she said good-bye and turned to her mother. “Great. Just what I needed.”

May held up the dishcloth she had been using to wipe out the sink. “What’s up?”

“I have to go into school.”

“Why? Surely you’re entitled to a personal day off.” May looked around and attacked a spot she noticed on the counter.

“They’re sorry for my loss, but they’ve got an irate parent coming in at one, and Neva Llewellyn wants me there.”