Murder of a Creped Suzette (14 page)

“Any evidence Suzette was still alive at that time?”

“Yes. The foreman stopped at the office trailer and spoke to Taylor. He said he saw Suzette.”

“Does Taylor confirm that?” Skye asked.

“Not only him, but Suzette was on the phone with the mayor, so Dante verifies it, too.” Wally read from the file in front of him.

“Suzette didn’t have her own transportation,” Skye remembered. “Did Taylor say why he left her alone out there without a ride to town?”

“He claims that when he left at three thirty, she told him someone was picking her up.”

Skye swallowed hard. “She must have meant me.”

“That was my guess.”

Skye was silent. Would Suzette still be alive if she hadn’t stayed around to meet Skye?

“So that puts the time of death between three and four thirty.” Wally looked up from his notes.

“So, who doesn’t have an alibi for those ninety minutes ?”

“Most of the construction workers claim they were at the Brown Bag Bar all afternoon, but with the amount of alcohol they consumed, I really don’t trust their memories.”

“How about the music people? The guys in the band, the sound techs, the roadies?”

“Only three of them were alone during that time.”

“That narrows it down.”

“To a certain extent. But most of the ones with alibis were part of a big group at a bar, so they might have slipped away. Or the killer could be someone we’re not aware of. We’ve learned little about Suzette’s background. And so far, we haven’t found anyone who can think of why someone would want to kill her.”

Skye opened her mouth to mention Kallista and Flint’s animosity toward Suzette, but she was interrupted by the telephone.

While Wally answered the call, Skye took Toby out back for a walk. She definitely didn’t want a repeat of the incident that afternoon, although Wally’s shoes couldn’t possibly cost as much as Homer’s.

Wally was off the phone when she got back. “That was the ME.”

“Oh?”

“He finished his preliminary examination. The victim was probably immobilized by a blow to the head before she was run over by the steamroller.”

“So she might have been dead or at least unconscious before being crushed?” Skye thought about it. “That makes sense. No one would just lie there and let that happen.”

“The ME’s sent all the samples he obtained to the lab.”

Skye couldn’t read Wally’s expression. “That’s what you wanted. Right?”

“Right.” Wally nodded. “And although the DNA evidence on the exterior of the body was compromised by the conditions, the ME’s exam did give us a lead to follow.”

“Which is?” Why was Wally hesitating? This couldn’t be good news.

“He found semen inside the body.”

“Yikes!”

“Exactly.” Wally rubbed his chin. “Now the question is, did she have consensual sex or was she raped?”

“The ME couldn’t tell?”

“The body sustained too much damage.”

“Of course.” Skye shivered. “How stupid of me.” She kept trying to put the image of Suzette under the steamroller out of her mind, but there was always some reminder of it.

“You realize that this changes everything.” Wally’s voice held a trace of reluctance as he added, “Whoever Suzette was with Saturday is now a prime suspect.”

“Why?” Skye wrinkled her forehead. “If the ME found semen, she would have had to have sex just prior to her death, not forty-eight hours previously.”

“True,” Wally agreed. “However, since no one has mentioned that she played around, a reasonable assumption is that Suzette was probably only involved with one man. And if that guy was Mr. Black Pickup Truck, he very well may have visited her at the construction site after Rex Taylor left.”

“Oh.” Skye had a sinking feeling she knew what Wally was getting at. “You mean Owen might be . . .”

“Yes.”

“If You’ve Got the Money, I’ve Got the Time”

W
hile Skye tried not to think about the consequences of Owen being a suspect in Suzette’s death, Wally phoned the Frayne residence to see if he was around. Trixie answered and said her husband wasn’t available, but promised to have him call Wally’s cell as soon as he returned. Not wanting to alarm Trixie, or alert Owen to his status as a person of interest in a murder investigation, Wally agreed to that plan.

A few minutes later, after Anthony delivered the shoes and was paid for his time, Skye and Wally left the police station via the garage’s back exit. To avoid any chance of the reporters following them, Wally decided to ride with Skye rather than follow her home in his police cruiser, as was his usual practice. The minor inconvenience of being without his squad car, should there be an emergency, was outweighed by the major annoyance of the press recording their every move.

They considered stopping at the Feed Bag, Scumble River’s only non-fast-food restaurant, for supper, but when Skye pointed out that would mean Toby would have to wait in the car, they decided against it. The air had cooled off and there was no sun to heat up the vehicle’s interior, but neither one of them was comfortable leaving the dog by himself. The poor thing had been through enough.

Instead, following a quick stop at the supermarket to purchase ingredients for their meal, they headed straight to Skye’s house. She and Wally were both silent during the five-minute drive, and even Toby, who was draped across the backseat, seemed subdued.

When Skye turned into her driveway, Wally said, “Tell me again why we didn’t go to my place?” He glanced at the two-story house to his left, then frowned when a curtain on a second-floor window appeared to move slightly. “Did you see that?”

“What?” Skye looked where he was pointing, then shook her head. “I don’t see anything.” Skye parked next to the front walk. “And to answer your first question, because it’s not fair to Bingo to leave him alone for so long. Toby’s been with me all day.”

“But Bingo sleeps most of the time.” Wally got out of the Chevy, carrying the grocery bag.

“True.” Skye joined him, then whistled for the little dog, who jumped into the driver’s seat, then into her arms. “But he’ll be awake now.”

“I’m worried that you’re getting too attached to Toby.” Wally frowned as Skye cuddled the little dog. “You do realize that keeping him isn’t a good idea, right?” Wally patted the canine’s head with his free hand. “I’ll grant you he’s cute, but dogs are a lot more work than cats.”

“I know.” Skye climbed the steps. “If we find a next of kin for Suzette, and that person won’t take him, I’ll try to find him a good home.” She paused, and tilted her head. “Hey, maybe you could adopt him.”

“No.”

“Why not?” What was up with Wally’s attitude toward Toby? He loved Bingo. “I thought you liked animals.”

“I do, but it’s not fair to a dog to leave him alone for hours and hours at a time. They’re pack animals, and they need companionship.”

“Then I need to find him someone who is either at home a lot or has a job that allows them to bring pets to work.” Skye dug her keys from her pocket.

“What are you going to do with him in the meantime ? Clearly he can’t go to school with you again.” Wally took the key ring from Skye’s hand. “You said he and Bingo don’t get along, and that Toby destroys his surroundings if he gets bored.”

“Those are problems,” Skye admitted, scratching behind the little dog’s silky ears.

“Then I suppose you’d better study up on how to introduce a dog into a cat household.” Wally fitted the key in the lock. “Have you thought of spreading tuna on Toby’s back or sprinkling him with catnip?”

“Actually, I had Trixie do some research online for me about that.” Skye patted her tote bag. “It’s what to do with him during the day while I’m gone that’s my real concern.” She frowned. “If only Mom liked animals or Dad wasn’t so busy right now.”

“Well, a short-term solution might be that new Doggy Daycare place out on Robin Road across the street from the spa.” Wally swung open the front door for Skye. “The problem is that I heard it’s really expensive since it’s mostly aimed at the spa’s clientele. And I’m guessing you won’t let me pick up the tab for you.”

“You’re guessing right. I can pay my own bills.” Skye smiled to take some of the sting from her words, then made sure she had a tight grip on Toby’s leash. “When did the place open and why didn’t you tell me about it this morning?”

“A couple of weeks ago.” Wally moved back. “And when you didn’t bring it up during our conversation, I figured you had already arranged for someone to watch him.”

“Oh, yeah.” Skye thought back. She hadn’t mentioned her canine babysitting problem to Wally. “Sorry.” She crossed the threshold and braced herself for an explosion.

Bingo sat immobile in precisely the middle of the foyer’s hardwood floor. He looked at Skye, then flicked an ear and stared at the dog. Toby barked excitedly, but the black cat only sneered. Swishing his tail back and forth, Bingo deliberately turned his back on the canine.

Skye and Wally exchanged glances.

“What do you think?” Skye asked.

“Let’s see what happens if you let Toby approach Bingo,” Wally suggested, putting the grocery sack on the hallway bench.

Skye kept a firm hold on the leash. “Okay.” She stepped closer to the cat.

Wally followed, angling to get behind Bingo in case of trouble.

“They’re nearly the same size,” Skye commented as she watched.

Toby uttered a couple of sharp woofs, then sniffed at the cat.

Appearing to ignore the dog, Bingo lifted his rear leg and began licking it.

“Interesting.” Wally cocked his thumb at the two animals. “They seem okay.”

Toby’s nose twitched and his stubby tail started to wag.

“Should I let him off the leash?” Skye asked doubtfully. “I don’t want him to hurt Bingo.”

“I doubt Bingo is in any danger.” Wally appraised the pair. “I’d be more worried about the dog.”

“You’re probably right,” Skye agreed. “Grandma had Bingo’s front paws declawed, but he’s far from defenseless. And I’d like to see if they’ll tolerate each other.”

“Go ahead.” Wally crouched down next to the cat, ready to intervene. “If there’s trouble, I’ll grab Bingo; you go for Toby’s leash.”

“All right.” Skye let go of the lead, ready to snatch it back up at the first sign of hostilities.

Toby circled the cat while Bingo continued his bath. After two or three orbits, the dog lay down next to the feline and sighed. Bingo stopped his ablutions, gave Toby’s ears a couple of licks, then rose and stretched. Once he was sure everyone was watching, he sauntered down the hall, pausing halfway to see if the humans were following.

“Well, I’ll be darned.” Wally’s expression was bemused.

“The old wives’ tale must be true,” Skye said half to herself as she rushed to the feline’s food bowl, popped open a tin of Fancy Feast, and gave him the entire can for being such a good kitty. “Every now and again, cats decide to humor us because they feel guilty that their ancestors ate ours.” She giggled at her own silliness.

A moment later, when Toby trailed Wally into the kitchen, she rewarded the little dog with his mushy food, too.

With the animals fed and behaving themselves, Skye fetched the groceries from the foyer and said to Wally, “How about making a tossed salad while I cook the salmon?”

“Sure.” Wally took off his gun belt, unknotted his tie and slid it out from under his collar, then draped both over the back of a chair. “There. That’s better.”

Skye noticed he appeared years younger as he shed the accoutrements of his job. Smiling, she promised herself that later she’d get him out of the rest of his uniform.

Once the meal was ready, Skye asked Wally, “Can you open a bottle of wine for me, please?”

“You’re drinking?” Wally’s tone was quizzical. Skye rarely drank on a school night.

“Yep. It’s been that kind of day.” Skye gathered the plates, cutlery, napkins, and stemware. “Let’s eat in the sunroom.”

“Okay.” Wally followed her, carrying the salad and merlot. After they were settled on the wicker settee, Wally poured them each a glass of wine.

They were both hungry, and ate in silence for the first ten minutes. Finally, they spoke at once.

“I forgot—” Skye said.

And Wally said, “So, what I—”

“You first.” Skye waved her hand in his direction, put down her fork, and leaned back. “You’ve been trying to tell me something for the past twenty-four hours and I can’t stand the suspense any longer.”

Wally chugged the rest of his merlot, then cleared his throat. “So you know that last month after Father Burns told us the address I gave him for Darleen wasn’t any good, I traced her to another town in Alaska and sent a registered letter there?”

“Yes.” Of course she knew. How could she not know? The fact that they couldn’t find Wally’s ex-wife to get her statement was holding up the annulment process.

“A week or so later that letter also came back marked ‘Moved, no forwarding address.’ And I hadn’t been able to unearth even a new phone number for her.”

Silently, Skye was screaming,
Get to the part I don’t already know
, but aloud she said in an encouraging tone, “Yes?”

“So, yesterday—” Wally broke off at the sound of an insistent buzzing from the hall.

Whoever was at the front door was jabbing the bell repeatedly, causing Toby, who had been lying at Skye’s side, to leap to his feet and run out of the sunroom, barking wildly. Bingo, who had been asleep on the settee cushion next to Wally, opened one eye and turned over.

Geez!
Skye ignored the ringing. “Go ahead,” she ordered. “Tell me what happened yesterday.”

“It might be one of my officers about the case.” Wally rose from his seat and strode toward the foyer. “You know my cell doesn’t always work in this house.”

Skye followed, easing past him to brush aside the curtain covering the front window. She peered out, sighed in frustration, then swung the door open.