Murder of a Barbie and Ken (11 page)

While Skye was still absorbed in the memory of the Addisons’ failed dinner party, there was a knock on her office
door. She jumped at the sound, but quickly called out, “Come in.”

The door creaked open and Joy Kessler’s face appeared in the gap. “Sorry I’m late.”

“That’s okay. Please, come in. Have a seat.” Skye gestured a welcome. She had brought a second chair into her tiny office, and didn’t want to attempt the ungraceful maneuver of climbing over it to shake hands.

Joy stepped into the room, closed the door, and dropped into the metal folding chair. “Thank you so much for agreeing to see me.”

Joy had the wholesome good looks of a Sears catalog model. She wore her dark blond hair in shoulder-length waves, and her light makeup emphasized a pale gold complexion. She was dressed in mushroom-colored wool slacks and a taupe silk blouse. The large gold beads around her throat looked real.

“I’m happy you were able to come in. Alex seems to be having a difficult year.”

Joy draped the coat she had been carrying over her lap, and smoothed the brown leather with her fingertips. “I don’t know where to start.”

“Why don’t you tell me a little about him? I’ve watched him in a couple of classes and looked at his file, but I’d like to hear your observations.”

“He’s always been full of energy and curiosity. As a baby he never slept more than two hours at a time. He still is a restless sleeper.”

Skye nodded. This was consistent with what she had observed, and what the teachers had reported. “How did he adjust to kindergarten?”

“Not very well.” Joy twisted her purse strap. “The teacher said he was smart, but couldn’t sit still, and he bothered the other students.”

“That still seems to be a problem,” Skye said.

“He seems to be getting worse. We thought once he got to junior high he’d start to mature, but …”

Skye nodded sympathetically. “Summer magic. Sometimes kids really grow up during that June, July, August between elementary and middle school.”

“There was no magic for us. Summer was a nightmare.” Joy shuddered and took a deep breath before saying, “Did you know that if you attach a dog leash to the ceiling fan and hold on, a forty-two-pound boy in a Superman cape can fly?” Tears spilled from her brown eyes. “At least until the fan comes crashing down from the ceiling.”

Skye bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing at the picture that popped into her mind.

“And I’ll bet you had no idea that if you tape a paint can to the blades of a ceiling fan, there’s enough liquid inside to spatter all four walls of a twenty-by-twenty-foot room.”

“Oh, my.” Skye was dying to ask if this was the same fan or a different one, but controlled herself. “What did you do in response to these incidents?”

“We’ve tried punishing him by taking away television, by grounding him to his room, and having him go to bed without supper—nothing works.” Joy grabbed a tissue from the box on the desk. “We’ve tried rewarding him with stickers and trips to McDonald’s.” She shredded the tissue, the pieces falling like snow around her ankles. “It’s like he can’t stop himself.”

“I see.” Skye hurriedly jotted down some notes.

Joy suddenly laughed, a hysterical edge making it sound tinny and off-key. “Actually, we’ve learned quite a bit while raising Alex. We now know that while the clothes dryer has no effect on earthworms, it does make the cat dizzy, and dizzy cats throw up twice their body weight.”

Now that Joy had started talking, it seemed she couldn’t stop. “We’ve also discovered that garbage bags do not make good parachutes, marbles in a gas tank make a lot of noise when the car is driven, Play-Doh and microwaves should
never be used in the same sentence, and Krazy Glue really is forever.”

“Alex seems very imaginative.” Skye wanted to start on a positive note. “What I’ve noticed most is his impulsivity, and that he seems driven.”

Joy tilted her head. “Driven?”

“Almost as if there’s a motor inside him that never shuts off.”

“Yes! I see that, too.”

“From what you’ve described and from his behavior at school, you may want to consult a physician and explore the possibility of attention deficit hyperactivity disorder.” Skye handed Joy a folder. “Here’s some information on ADHD. Why don’t you and your husband look it over, and see if you think Alex has similar characteristics?”

“No, I can’t do that.” Joy moaned. “My husband would never agree to drug our child.”

“The doctor may not suggest medication.”

“Quentin won’t want me to even take him to the doctor. He isn’t too happy with Tony Zello.”

“Why’s that?”

“Ever since he and Ken started doing that research project of theirs, Quentin feels that they’ve neglected their patients.”

“What kind of research were they doing?”

“I have no idea,” Joy answered. “But if you really want to know, you should talk to Yolanda Doozier. She runs their office.”

“Oh, thanks for the suggestion.” Joy was the second person to suggest Skye should talk to Addison’s office manager. Skye filed that bit of information away to think about later. Right now it was time to focus on the issue of Alex’s behavior. “The fact that your husband has lost confidence in Dr. Zello shouldn’t influence your decision to consult a doctor. It would actually be better if you saw either a pediatric
psychiatrist or pediatric neurologist. ADHD is more in their area of expertise.”

“Isn’t there anything you can do?”

“Definitely. I’ll work with you and his teachers to design a behavior plan.” Skye consulted her appointment book. “How about next Tuesday at nine o’clock? The sixth-grade teachers have their planning period then, so they could meet with us, too.”

“That would be fine.” Joy stood up. “I just don’t know what to do. Quentin is going to be so upset if I even suggest that Alex has something wrong with him.”

Skye eased out from the cramped space behind her desk and patted the woman’s shoulder. “I’ve learned that whenever I decide something with an open heart, I usually make the right decision.”

Joy sighed and put her coat and purse over her arm. “I just want Alex to behave himself.”

“I know. We’ll work on helping him do that.” Skye folded up the chair Joy had been sitting on to make a path to the door. “By the way, I met your daughter the other day. She signed up to be on the student newspaper, and I’m one of the faculty sponsors.”

“Bitsy’s never given us any trouble—she’s popular, gets good grades, and follows the rules. Why can’t Alex be like that?”

Skye patted the woman’s arm. There was nothing she could say to that.

After Joy left, Skye sat back down at her desk and studied her notes. Poor woman. She had a long, hard road ahead of her.

Skye shivered. Why was she still sitting in the Bel Air instead of going into her nice warm cottage? Because she didn’t want to deal with Bunny. She sank lower in the driver’s seat, and considered restarting the engine and backing
out of the driveway. But where would she go? Neither Simon nor her mother would be sympathetic.

May had called Skye at work that afternoon, and she had made a point of telling her that she had just stopped at Skye’s cottage and found “that woman” still snoring on the couch. Skye was afraid to ask for further details, such as why May had gone to the cottage in the first place, and if Bunny was still asleep—or alive—when May left. The depth of her mother’s hostility toward Bunny surprised her. May usually liked everyone.

Sitting in the car like this was ridiculous. Skye inhaled deeply, which started her coughing. It was time to stop being a coward and go inside before she made her cold worse. She got out of the Chevy and approached the door, sneaking up as if a sniper were behind it. The knob turned easily. No sign of life in the foyer, but Skye could see flickering light and hear canned laughter coming from the great room.

Bingo rubbed against her legs and demanded his supper. Skye detoured to the kitchen, filling the cat’s bowl with his favorite flavor of Fancy Feast and giving him fresh water.

Finally, she walked into the great room. Bunny was sprawled on the couch painting her toenails. She looked up briefly when Skye entered and said, “How was your day?”

“Fine. Yours?”

“Okay. I called around about some jobs that were listed in the paper.”

“Any luck?” Skye asked.

Bunny shrugged. “We’ll see.”

Skye moved toward her bedroom. “Simon and I are going bowling tonight. There’s pizza in the freezer and lettuce in the fridge. Make yourself dinner whenever you’re hungry.”

“Okay.” Bunny sighed wistfully. “I love bowling.”

“Really?” Skye changed the subject, afraid Bunny would demand to go with them. “By the way, any progress on finding a motel room?”

Bunny became fascinated with applying the red polish perfectly to her big toe. “Not so far.”

“Did you call Charlie today to see if he had a vacancy?”

“I’ll do that as soon as my nails dry.”

“Don’t forget.” Skye looked at her watch. It was already nearly six. “Simon’s picking me up soon. I have to go get ready.”

Simon parked his Lexus between a Lincoln Navigator and a BMW X5. Skye snickered, and he asked, “What’s so funny?”

“I was just thinking that I’ll bet the only time the Gold Strike’s parking area looks like a luxury used-car lot is during the GUMBs’ Friday night bowling league. Pickups and Fords are more the norm here.” Skye got out of the Lexus and edged over to Simon’s side. The asphalt was clear but slippery. “It still surprises me that you like to bowl.”

“Hey, I was the teen champ of the Strike and Spare.” Simon took their bowling bags from the trunk, and they walked toward the entrance.

Skye pointed to a weathered sign in front of the building and said, “I think the For Sale sign is going to disintegrate before anyone buys this place.”

“Probably,” Simon agreed, then asked, “Is
she
still staying with you?”

“Yes. I called the highway patrol, and they don’t advise driving to Kankakee or Joliet yet. They said the snow was blowing and drifting in a lot of the open areas, so even though Scumble River streets seem okay, the ones leading out of town aren’t. Charlie didn’t answer when Bunny called to see if he had a room open at the motor court, but she promised to keep phoning him.”

“Maybe I could rent a snowmobile or a dog sled or something.” Simon shouldered one of the double doors open and waited for Skye to enter.

“She’ll be gone soon,” Skye soothed. “You should talk to
her before she goes.” Skye knew they’d been down this road before, but she also knew that sometimes things had to be said several times before people who were hurting emotionally could hear them.

Simon turned right as he came through the door. He stopped in front of an orange-and-brown cube-shaped locker, and put their bowling bags on the wooden bench bolted to the floor in front of it. “I don’t want to talk to her or about her anymore.” He took off his jacket and handed it to her.

Skye decided not to pursue the subject, for now. Instead she took their coats across the aisle and hung them in the alcove next to the rest rooms and pay telephone.

As they walked through the bar and grill, music from the jukebox became louder. Gary Lewis was crooning “Save Your Heart For Me” to the nearly empty Formica tables and vinyl chairs that were scattered across the width of the area.

The odor of frying hamburgers and sliced onions permeated the air. Skye’s stomach growled. She hadn’t had time to eat supper before Simon picked her up. She’d order something after they got started.

She and Simon stepped down into the bowling lanes and joined their teammates, Theresa and Ted Dugan, at number five. They settled on the green plastic bench and exchanged greetings.

While Skye changed her shoes, Theresa said, “School was tough today. It’s hard to keep the kids’ attention when the week has been interrupted.”

“That’s one of the reasons I really don’t like snow days.”

“Is the other because we have to make it up in June?”

“Yes.” Skye got up to roll a couple of balls. She was the weakest player and needed the practice. “I hate that.”

“Are you planning to do any traveling this summer?”

“Nothing firm yet, but I’d really like to go somewhere,” Skye said over her shoulder as she approached the lane. “It’s been years since I had a real vacation.” She looked down at
the hardwood floor and found her mark, but before she could step forward, an angry voiced stopped her.

“Excuse me. I was here first.” Lu Ginardi was on the adjacent lane.

Skye gestured with her free hand for Lu to go ahead.

Lu waited to make sure Skye wasn’t about to move, then made her approach and released the ball. A strike. She shot Skye a triumphant look and flounced over to her seat.

Skye really wished she knew why Lu disliked her so much. Skye rolled a spare, which was good for her but seemed pathetic after the other woman’s stellar performance.

On the opposing team’s bench, the Ginardis and the Zellos had their heads together, whispering. Skye wondered what they were talking about. It could be about tactics, but what kind of strategy was there to bowling? Still, they must know something. They were in the number one spot.

When Skye sat back down, Bob Ginardi said to Simon, “Is your team ready now?”

“Sure. Let’s get started.”

During the first two games, Simon, Skye, Theresa, and Ted all bowled well above their average. As they started the third game, they were ahead by almost fifty pins. Neither the Ginardis nor the Zellos were taking it well. Skye and Theresa were trying to carry on a normal conversation and ignore the other team’s pointed comments.

“Boy, I should have followed your example the other day,” Skye said. “I’m just about out of food, and the store shelves are still nearly empty.”

“Even with all the stuff I got Wednesday, my cupboards are just about bare again,” Theresa agreed. “Three growing boys require a lot of nourishment.” She shook her head. “I keep thinking of all those Instant Gourmet meals at the Addisons’. Do you think there’s any way that food could be distributed?”

“No. Chief Boyd said they need it for evidence. After that
it becomes a part of the estate, and the next of kin will have to deal with it.”