Murder of a Creped Suzette (13 page)

“Yeah.” Wally’s lips turned up at the corner in a tiny grin. “Right after she forgives me for not being Catholic.”

“She’ll come around once the annulment goes through.” Skye’s tone was uncertain.

“Actually”—Wally pulled up a chair in front of Skye and took her hands—“that’s what I need to talk to you about. You see—”

He was interrupted by the ringing of his private line. The one to which only Skye and the mayor had the number.

“Where Were You?”

S
kye sat frozen, her face expressionless, trying not to give any indication she was upset. But Toby seemed to sense her distress and leaned against her leg, whimpering. She absently petted him while she listened to Wally on the phone.

“No, Dante. There’s still nothing definitive from the medical examiner.” Wally sat on the edge of his desk. “Yes, I’m sure there’s no way it could have been an accident. Steamrollers do not move without someone in the driver’s seat and people do not lie down in their path and allow themselves to be flattened like a pancake.”

He listened as the mayor’s voice blasted from the receiver, then said, “Hell, no. I wasn’t trying to make a joke. I don’t even know what a crêpe suzette is.”

Skye could hear her uncle screaming something about bad publicity, but she caught only every other word of his diatribe.

“Believe me, no one around here wants to talk to the media,” Wally interjected when Dante took a breath. “We’re directing all questions to you.”

Skye couldn’t stand it any longer. This waiting was killing her. She got up. “I’m going to get a soda. Do you want one?” Wally shook his head. “Okay. I’ll be right back.”

When Skye returned juggling a can of Diet Coke, a bag of Cheetos, and a Kit Kat bar, Wally was just hanging up the receiver, saying, “Yeah. I’ll call you right away if I hear anything.”

“That sounded fun,” Skye commented, laying her loot on the desktop.

Wally ran his fingers through his hair. “Your uncle’s gone crazy.”

“I’ll bet it was a short trip.” Skye resumed her seat, grabbed the soda, and popped the top. “He’s had the map to that location for years.”

Wally chuckled mirthlessly. “Rex Taylor has him convinced we need to spin this as an accidental death.”

“Right.” Skye swallowed a sip of Diet Coke. “Has he suggested blaming the whole thing on gremlins or a poltergeist ?”

“I’m sure that’s next.” Wally picked up the Cheetos and pulled open the bag. “It sure would help if the ME got his report in.”

“When do you expect it?” Skye unwrapped the Kit Kat bar.

“The preliminary one should be here anytime, but it’ll be three to seven days before we get the DNA tests.” Wally crunched a bright orange puff of cheese. “Too bad it’s not like those shows you like. I bet
NCIS
would have had the results before the first commercial.”

“Probably,” Skye deadpanned. “They have Abby on their team and she’s a lot smarter than our lab guys.” She knew Wally thought the forensics on TV dramas were bogus, but she still enjoyed the programs. “So what were you going to tell me before the phone rang?”

“Maybe we should wait until later, when we’re home, to talk about that.” Wally’s expression was apprehensive. “You know, stick to business while we’re here. We have a lot to discuss about the case.”

“Actually . . .” Skye faltered. She had just remembered Homer’s ultimatum. “I have to get over to Franklin’s in Clay Center and they close in half an hour.”

“You want to go shopping now?” Wally’s brows disappeared into his hairline.

“Not want, need.” Skye enlightened Wally about her afternoon and Toby’s indiscretion, finishing with, “So, you see, it’s those shoes or my job.”

“A dog is a big responsibility.” He glanced down at the culprit in question, who was staring at the Cheeto Wally was holding. “Maybe you need to find someone else to take care of him.”

“I told you this morning, I’m only keeping him until you find Suzette’s next of kin.”

“I just want you to think of the consequences of your decision.”

“Fine.” Skye narrowed her eyes.

“Fine.” Wally pressed the intercom button. “May, have Anthony come up to my office.”

“What are you doing?”

“I’m going to send him to get Homer’s shoes.” Wally crossed his arms. “I need you here and I can spare him, so it makes sense.”

“You can’t have him run my errands.” Skye wondered at Wally’s uncharacteristic behavior. He was usually obsessively careful not to exploit his position as chief of police. “Not on the city’s dime.”

“I wasn’t going to.” He shot her a quizzical look as he reached into his back pocket and took out his wallet. “His shift is almost over, so I’ll take him off the clock and pay him myself.”

“It’s my problem.” Even though they were engaged, Skye felt uncomfortable letting Wally spend his money on her this way. “I’ll pay him.”

“Fair enough.”

While Wally worked out the details with Anthony, Skye phoned the store to see how much the shoes cost. “You’re kidding me.”

The clerk’s voice was amused. “No, ma’am. That particular brand is two hundred and twenty-nine dollars.”

“Holy mackerel!” Skye’s shriek drew Toby’s, Wally’s, and Anthony’s attention. She covered the receiver and repeated the price. The little dog yipped in sympathy, but the men seemed unimpressed.

“Lady, I’ve got customers waiting. Do you want them or not? I only have one pair in that size.”

Yeah
. Skye rolled her eyes. Like there were hundreds of people clamoring to buy butt-ugly size 10 double-E clodhoppers that cost more than a new set of tires.

“Yes, I want them.” Skye gritted her teeth. What choice did she have? “Can I give you my credit card number to pay for them now?”

“Knock yourself out.”

Skye stopped herself from suggesting that the man take his own advice, and instead she said, as civilly as she could manage, “A friend of mine will be there in twenty minutes to get them. His name is Anthony.”

“Is he cute?” Before disconnecting, the clerk added, “Never mind. Even if he’s Brad Pitt, we close at six on the dot and I’m not sticking around if he isn’t here.”

After Anthony left for Clay Center, Skye and Wally were silent for a few minutes.

Finally Wally seated himself behind his desk. He opened a folder, picked up pen, and said, “Shall we get down to business?”

“Well . . .” Skye ate a section of the Kit Kat bar while she considered insisting Wally tell her about whatever he was avoiding. Deciding it would be better to handle their personal issues somewhere else, she said, “Okay. Where should we start?”

“Why don’t you write out your statement, so May can type it up for you to sign while we talk?” Wally pushed a legal pad and ballpoint over to her.

“Already done.” Skye whipped several sheets of paper out of her tote bag and slid them across the desktop toward him. “I wrote it last night after I got home so it would be fresh in my mind.”

“Good thinking.” He picked up the pages and flipped through them. “Is there anything here that you remembered after we spoke? Anything you didn’t tell me?”

“Nothing about finding the body.” Skye made a couple of notes on the legal pad. “But I did discover some information today.”

“Great.” Wally leaned forward. “We sure haven’t made much progress on this end.” He absently fingered a letter opener. “We did brief interviews with the Country Roads employees and we told them all to stick around town until we give the go-ahead to leave. Though if anyone consults a lawyer, they’ll find out we can’t really hold them here.”

“From what I overheard Uncle Dante telling you on the phone earlier, it doesn’t sound as if Rex has any intention of altering his plans to open a music theater,” Skye reassured Wally. “Which means I doubt he’d let any of his employees leave town.”

“True.” Wally flipped to a fresh page on his legal pad. “So tell me what you’ve got.”

“First”—Skye held up a finger—“the bad news. The EMT who attended to Kallista Taylor’s fainting spell heard someone mention that the victim was Suzette, so that cat’s out of the bag.”

“Oh, well.” Wally shrugged. “We knew we’d never keep it quiet.” He grimaced. “But I can’t make an official announcement until the ME confirms the DNA samples, which will drive the reporters crazy.”

Skye nodded sympathetically. “Number two, I discovered that Suzette’s father worked at the high school for a year as a music teacher.”

“How did you find that out?”

“The current music teacher told me.” Skye explained how Noreen had come to confide in her, finishing up with, “I’ll talk to her more about Mr. Neal tomorrow, and also find out from her if there’s anyone else still around town who would have known him back then.”

“That’s great information to have, especially because Martinez couldn’t find the case file on Mrs. Neal’s accident.” Wally tapped his pen on the desktop.

Zelda Martinez was the newest, youngest, and only female officer on the Scumble River police force. She’d started less than five months ago, straight from the academy, and was still considered a rookie, which meant she was given all the boring assignments.

“Do you think they didn’t write up the case?” Skye could believe it. The chief before Wally had been hired because he was the previous mayor’s cousin, not because he was the best candidate for the job.

“No. I’m sure the file exists. The problem is the chaos in the storage room.” Wally ran his fingers through his hair. “I told Dante a couple of years ago we needed to get those records in the computer, but he refused to give me a budget to hire someone to do it, and with only one officer and one dispatcher on duty per shift, there’s no time.”

“Sounds like the school system.” Skye walked around the desk and rubbed his shoulders. “Something is never important enough to spend money on until it’s an all-out emergency.”

“Right.” Wally blew out a puff of exasperation. “Dante only pays attention to whatever is hot now. Then it’s asses and elbows, but once the crisis is over he goes back to his same old neglectful ways.”

“Remind me again why we chose to be civil servants.” Skye smiled wryly.

“Because we’re too idealistic for our own good.”

“That brings me to the third piece of info.” Skye gave his muscles a final squeeze and sat back down. “The one I’m not sure I should share with you.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because it’s only a hunch.” Skye pursed her lips. “Actually, not even a hunch—just a possibility. An extremely unlikely possibility.”

“That’s never stopped you before.” Wally grinned. “In fact, that’s your specialty.”

“You are so not funny.” Skye shot a rubber band at him, then sobered. “The difference this time is that I could hurt a friend.”

“I promise to move cautiously”—Wally put his hand over his heart—“and try to keep whatever I can out of the written reports.”

“Okay.” Skye inhaled sharply. After keeping a secret from Wally in their last case, she had vowed never to do it again. She had to tell him, no matter how bad she felt doing so. “Owen Frayne disappeared last Saturday afternoon and didn’t reappear until early that evening.”

“So?”

“He told Trixie he went to Joliet for a drink with a friend.”

“But?”

“But I think he may be lying and he really might have been with Suzette.” Putting her suspicions into words tied Skye’s stomach into knots. “She was missing during the same period of time Owen was gone. And when she did finally show up at the concert, I saw her being dropped off by someone in a dusty black pickup.” Skye blew out a breath. “Just like the one Owen drives.”

“There are a lot of dirty black trucks in the area,” Wally pointed out. “What was the make and model?”

“I have no idea,” Skye admitted. “And I’m hoping it wasn’t Owen’s, but the fact that he and Suzette didn’t show up where they were supposed to be on the same afternoon . . .”

“Yeah. And even though their dual absences could be a coincidence, we need to check out Owen, as well as the other owners of black trucks in the area.” Wally made a note on his pad. “Here’s what I’ll do. I will personally have a talk with him, telling him that we’re meeting with everyone in the area who drives a black pickup.”

Skye chewed on a thumbnail. “You’re not going to tell him it has anything to do with Suzette, are you?”

“No,” Wally assured her. “I’ll tell him we’re investigating a hit-and-run during that time that involved a black truck. If he gives me the name of his friend and that person confirms his alibi, we can clear him without causing any collateral damage.”

She tilted her head, thinking, then nodded. “Yeah, that should work.”

“Anything else about the case?” Wally asked.

“Yes.” Skye crossed her legs. “I was thinking about yesterday when the EMT climbed up on the steamroller to see if he could move it.”

“And?”

“And he came right back down and told Quirk that even though the key was there, he couldn’t figure out how it ran.”

“Right.” Wally leaned back in his chair. “The construction foreman had to be called.”

“Exactly.” Skye nodded. “So, driving a steamroller is a skill requiring special training. And whoever killed Suzette had to have had that training.”

“Shoot. I should have asked about that last night at the scene.” Wally picked up the phone and punched a couple of numbers. “Martinez, I want you to contact the construction foreman and get a list of his workers who know how to operate heavy equipment, in particular a steamroller. When you finish that, run a background check to see if any of the Country Roads people ever worked in an occupation where they might have learned to drive a steamroller.”

Wally hung up and Skye asked, “Have you established a timeline yet?”

“According to the foreman, he dismissed most of his workers around twelve thirty because it didn’t look like the rain would let up anytime soon. They were all gone when he left the site at three o’clock.”