Murder of a Bookstore Babe (23 page)

“Notify the office immediately if you find him.” Skye had to get out of there before she slapped Todd. “I’m going to keep searching.”

The gymnasium also served as the cafeteria, and the kitchen was connected through a set of swinging steel doors and a large window with a rolling metal shutter. It was too early for the lunch ladies to have arrived, so the space was empty.

As Skye opened all the cupboards, refrigerators, and even the ovens, she pondered the fact that the boy had disappeared between the time his teacher had walked her class to the gym and when Todd had taken roll call. She was sure that was significant, but why?

Still no sign of the ten-year-old anywhere, and she nibbled her thumbnail. Was there anywhere else he could be in here? Her gazed scanned the walls, stopping at a square that looked a little like a boarded-up window. She stepped over to it and tapped.

It was definitely hollow on the other side. She examined the painted plywood section, trying to figure out what it could be. Finally, she remembered that there was a basement under the old part of the school that was used for storage. This must be a dumbwaiter they used to transport supplies to and from the kitchen.

Putting both palms on the wood, Skye pushed, and the panel slid up smoothly. Squeezed inside was Arnold Underwood, and he wasn’t moving. She swallowed a cry, reaching out to touch the boy’s hand to check for a pulse.

Arnold’s eyes popped open, and he screamed. He was big for his age, barely fitting in the small compartment, but he backed up as far as he could get against the rear wall, then crouched there, panting.

“Arnold, it’s Ms. Denison. Remember, I came into your class and talked about making friends. We did little plays about different situations.”

He took a gulping breath and nodded. He’d had a rough life. His parents were poor and rented an old run-down house not too far from Skye’s family farm. They’d moved there from Joliet when Arnold was eight, and he’d had a hard time fitting into the already established pecking order of his second-grade class. The kids in Scumble River, like their parents, were slow to warm up to newcomers.

“Can you get out by yourself?”

He nodded again and scooted to the edge but stopped. “Am I in trouble?”

“I don’t know.” She was unsure what Caroline would do and unwilling to lie to the boy. “But I’ll try to help you. Why did you hide?”

He sat with his feet dangling over the edge and mumbled, “Because.”

“Was someone mean to you?” Skye wasn’t sure what to do. They hadn’t covered a boy hiding in a dumbwaiter in her school-psychology training, and she doubted it was in the
Best Practices
manual.

A tear ran down his cheek, and he wiped it away with the back of his hand.

Skye felt her throat close. She had to do something. Her mind raced, and she suddenly put together the pieces of the puzzle. “Is it because today is weighing and measuring day in gym?”

Arnold looked at her as if she had just read his mind. “How did you know?”

“I hated that day when I was in school, too.” Skye touched his hand. “Do they still yell out how much you weigh so everyone hears it?”

He nodded without looking at her and began picking at a scab on his arm.

“I used to pretend to be sick that day,” Skye told him, then had another thought. “Is Mr. Grind cool about the whole thing? My teacher was pretty horrible. She always made a nasty comment if she thought anyone weighed too much.”

“He’s not cool at all. He’s mean,” Arnold blurted out. “He calls me Porky and makes pig noises.”

“I’m so sorry.” Skye helped him out of the dumbwaiter. “He’s very wrong to do that.” As she escorted the boy to the office she said, “And don’t worry. I’ll make sure you aren’t in trouble for this.”

 

Skye sat in Caroline’s office. It was nearly eleven, and the situation was finally resolved. Arnold had been reassured, his teacher had been briefed, and he had returned to the classroom.

Now Skye was filling in the principal. “I really miss our last PE teacher. She was so great with the kids. I’ve explained to Todd on numerous occasions that teasing children about their appearance and lack of athletic prowess is a form of abuse. He insists that it toughens them up for real life.”

“And you disagree?” Caroline spoke thoughtfully from her seat behind the desk.

“Yes.” Skye leaned forward, intent on convincing the principal. “Most people can get past a bad experience, but they never get over it. Humiliation like this follows them the rest of their lives.”

“Judging from today’s incident, not to mention my thirty-eight years in education as both a teacher and a principal, I’d say you’re correct.” Caroline’s expression was hard to read. “Now, the question is, what are we going to do about it?”

“Do you really want my suggestion?” Skye asked, making sure the principal wasn’t using the royal
we
. She’d gotten stung too many times while trying to be helpful not to be cautious.

“Yes.” Caroline’s expression was anything but happy. “I’m distressed to admit that I’m not sure how to deal with Mr. Grind. This is his second year with us, and my usual methods don’t seem to be working.”

“I’m willing to consult closely with him. But he needs to know that I’m doing so under orders from you. And if by the end of the year we don’t see any improvement, since he’s not tenured . . .” Skye hated what she was about to say, but her job was to be the children’s advocate, not the teachers’. “I would have to recommend that his contract not be renewed and he not be given a reference.”

“I agree.” Caroline sighed. “He has such promise. We don’t have enough young men wanting to work at the elementary level, especially in PE. I hope you can help him see the error of his ways.”

“Or at least get him to do what he’s told.” Skye was pragmatic.

Caroline nodded, indicating their discussion was over. As Skye walked out of the principal’s office, she wondered what in the world she could do to convince Todd Grind her philosophy was the correct one.

Skye headed down the hall, mentally reshuffling her schedule. She had intended to test a fifth grader that morning but needed at least a two-hour block of uninterrupted time for that. And since she was due at the junior high at twelve thirty, it was too late to start now. She couldn’t do any observations, because she hadn’t made appointments with the teachers. That left report writing. There was never any shortage of paperwork, and she tended to do it in dribs and drabs, whenever she had a spare moment.

Preoccupied, she didn’t register that her usually locked office door was open, and as she stepped inside, she gave a tiny yelp. Sitting on one of the two metal folding chairs was Simon. As always, he was dressed impeccably, in an elegant dark suit.

He had spread the desk with a white linen tablecloth and placed a vase containing yellow roses in the center. Arranged around the bouquet were plates of fruit, cheese, French bread, and two flutes of sparkling grape juice. At least she hoped it was sparkling grape juice, because alcohol on school grounds was cause for immediate dismissal.

Skye sniffed. Her office had started life as a storage room for the cafeteria, and a faint odor of sour milk usually hung in the air, but today there was a pleasant floral scent. Was it the roses, or had Simon brought air freshener?

Simon had stood up when she entered, and a grin lit his handsome face. “Surprise!”

“What are you doing here?” Skye forced herself to frown even as her stomach growled at the sight of the food. “I told you to stop it.”

“And I told you I wouldn’t. Haven’t I convinced you of that yet?” He indicated the other chair. “Sit down. What’s the harm of a little brunch? It’s not as if I’m going to ravish you in the middle of the grade school. Although you do look good enough to eat.”

Skye ignored his compliment. He was obviously exaggerating. She was wearing a pair of old black slacks and a pink twin set that had seen better days, and she hadn’t even bothered to straighten her hair, just scraped it back with a headband.

Simon’s tall frame took up most of the small space, but she managed to edge past without brushing against him. She dragged the other folding chair back behind the desk and asked, “How did you get in here?” She was sure she’d locked the door. She always did because of confidentiality issues.

“Fern gave me the master key.”

“Why would she do that?” Skye glared at him. “She could get into a lot of trouble.”

“I helped her out when her mom died.” Simon nudged a plate of fruit toward her. “Come on. Eat something. It’s no big deal, and I know you won’t give Fern a hard time for trying to further true love.”

“You’re right,” Skye acknowledged. “I won’t tell on her, but you’ve got to stop this.”

“I can’t.” Simon was suddenly serious. “Look, when that psycho almost killed you last October, I realized that I didn’t appreciate you when we were dating. That I tried to change you, when you were perfect the way you were. That the reason you’re the one for me is because of who you are, not who I want to make you into.”

“Simon.” Skye swallowed the lump in her throat. “Don’t.” It was hard to hear the genuine love in his voice.

“I’m not going to say that I can’t live without you, but the truth is, there
is
only one person who completes me, and that’s you. I know for certain that my life would be infinitely richer with you by my side.” Simon’s expression was bleak. “It’s like I woke up one day and finally saw that with you the world is a wonderful place full of color and adventure, and without you, it’s like a black-and-white movie.”

Skye sat stunned for a moment, then said, “I’m sorry. Maybe if you had realized all of this sooner, but . . .” She shook her head. The pain in his voice tore at her. “I can’t do this for a lot of reasons. You have to leave.”

“I will, but I’m not giving up.” He smiled sadly. “And before I go, I need to tell you about Xavier.” Simon’s voice was grave. “Frannie told me last night that he’s been gone a lot lately. Either he won’t say where he’s going, or he lies to her about where he is.”

“Shit!” Skye sank into her chair. Xavier loved his daughter and would sacrifice anything for her. If he was lying to Frannie, they had a major problem.

“My thoughts exactly.” Simon sat down, too, as if he were suddenly exhausted. “It has to have something to do with the bookstore and his investment.”

“Have you asked him about it?” Skye absentmindedly picked up a grape and popped it into her mouth.

“Not yet. I wanted to run it by you first.” Simon sounded unsure.

“I don’t know what to advise you. He’s a tough person to figure out.” Skye nibbled a piece of cheese. “Do you think he’d tell you the truth?”

“A month ago I would have said yes.” Simon’s shoulders slumped. “Now I doubt it.”

“Then if you really want to know what’s going on, you’ll have to follow him.”

To Skye’s surprise, Simon didn’t immediately dismiss her suggestion. Instead he pulled out a small leather-bound pad of paper and started taking notes. While they discussed where Xavier might be disappearing to, what he might be doing, and how Simon could tail him, between them they polished off all the food.

Finally, Skye rose from her chair. “Now you really need to leave. I have to be at the junior high in fifteen minutes.”

Once he was standing, she thrust the vase of roses in his hands. “And I can’t accept these.”

His smile was pained. “You aren’t making this ‘winning you back’ thing easy.”

“Because it’s too late.” She was silent as he turned to go, then said, “Wait.”

His hopeful expression nearly broke her heart, but she steeled her emotions, “Do you know when the ME is releasing Kayla’s body?”

“Yes.” Simon sighed, clearly unhappy with her response. “I picked it up this morning. The wake is tomorrow, and the funeral is Saturday.”

“Was there anything new in his report?”

“He found bits of a hard blue plastic material in her hair.”

“Hmm.” What was made of blue plastic? Suddenly Skye felt warm breath on her face, and her eyes popped open. Simon was leaning forward, their noses nearly touching and his hazel eyes blazing into hers. “I’m not giving up.”

“And I’m not changing my mind.”

He tilted her chin up with his finger. “I hear annulments take a long, long time.”

 

For once, Skye was able to leave work on time, which meant she could stop by her brother’s hair salon before going to question Hugo. Vince still hadn’t called or answered his phone.

As Skye turned into the Great Expectations parking lot, she saw Vince’s Jeep in its usual spot, but when she tried to open the shop’s front door, she noticed that the CLOSED sign was in the window. Alarm fluttered in Skye’s chest. It was only a little past four in the afternoon. Vince never quit work until well after six on a weekday. And where could he have gone without his car? What could have happened?

Skye’s initial thought was to call her mother. Nope, bad idea. First she’d check his apartment. It took her only a few minutes to drive to the complex, and when he didn’t answer the door she tried her key. It didn’t work.

She couldn’t imagine someone as laid-back as her brother going to the trouble of changing the lock on his apartment door. Unless it had been Loretta’s doing. Still, why hadn’t Vince given her the new key?

As Skye wrote a note, underscoring the urgent need for Vince to get in touch with her, she had a thought. Did he and Loretta think she was as meddlesome as May? Was that the explanation for the changed lock and the unreturned calls? The idea was so appalling, she almost forgot her real worry. Had something happened to Vince that was preventing him from calling her back?

It seemed wrong, but Skye could think of no other option. She’d have to break down and call Loretta. She hated coming off as a nosy sister, but Vince and Loretta had both asked her to keep May from finding out about their engagement, and she couldn’t do that if they remained incommunicado.