Murder of a Creped Suzette (15 page)

Trixie burst into the entrance hall. “Owen’s disappeared again,” she cried. “I can’t find him anywhere. Something terrible has happened—I just know it! ” She flung herself at Skye, sobbing hysterically.

It took half an hour and most of the rest of the bottle of wine, but Skye and Wally finally managed to calm Trixie down enough for rational conversation. They had seated her on the settee in the sunroom next to Skye, while Wally took the matching wicker armchair.

Skye put her arm around her friend and asked gently, “Are you ready to tell us what happened?”

Taking one last gulp of merlot, Trixie wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and said to Wally, “After you called at six thirty wanting to speak to Owen, I got worried about what you wanted with him.” She glared at Wally. “You wouldn’t tell me why you needed to talk to him.”

“Sorry.” He crossed his arms. “As I said before, it’s confidential.”

“Right.” Trixie hiccupped. “Anyway, about a half hour ago, I decided to go get Owen, so he could call back and find out what was going on. I looked in the barn and the tractor shed, and even though it was too dark to be doing anything in the fields, I even checked there. Finally, I noticed that his truck wasn’t in the garage.”

Skye and Wally exchanged uneasy glances. Had Owen somehow gotten wind of the autopsy results and realized he might be a suspect in Suzette Neal’s murder?

“And that’s unusual?” Skye asked, not sure what was normal for the couple.

“Yes.” Trixie nodded emphatically. “Generally, we eat at five; then Owen takes care of the animals and works around the barn or shed for another two or three hours. Although lately he’s been staying out there until bedtime.”

“Which means, typically, if I hadn’t called, you wouldn’t have been concerned if he didn’t come inside until ten or so?” Wally asked.

“Right,” Trixie agreed, a troubled expression stealing over her face.

“You’re sure he hasn’t phoned you?” Skye asked. “Is your cell on?”

“Yes. I checked just before I left home,” Trixie affirmed. “And there are no messages from him.”

“Could you have forgotten a meeting he said he was attending?” Wally inquired.

“There’s nothing on the calendar.” Trixie shook her head. “And the only regular meeting he attends is the Farm Bureau on the second Wednesday of the month.”

They were silent as Skye searched for a rational explanation for Owen’s disappearance. Finally, she noticed that Trixie had her eyes closed and her lips were moving.

She poked Trixie with her finger. “Are you awake?”

“Yes. I’m praying for the wisdom to understand my husband,” Trixie enlightened Skye, then added, “Also for love to forgive him and patience to deal with his inconsiderate actions.”

“You’re not praying for strength?” Skye asked, thinking Trixie might need it.

“No,” Trixie said tartly. “If the Lord gave me strength, I might end up beating the crap out of my husband.”

Oops!
Skye hurriedly thought of an explanation for Owen’s absence. “Maybe he went to get a tractor part.” She glanced at her watch. It was eight twenty-nine. “Farm and Fleet doesn’t close for another half hour.”

“Well.” Trixie’s shoulders relaxed. “I suppose he might have gone over to Kankakee. But he should have told me. Heck, maybe I would have wanted to take a ride with him.” She scowled. “This does it. He’s getting a cell phone whether he wants one or not. And he darn well better use it or there’ll be hell to pay.”

As Skye walked Trixie out to her car, Trixie hugged her and said, “Thanks for always being there for me.”

“That’s what friends are for.” Skye hugged Trixie back. “We’re sort of like Spanx; we never let you droop and are all about support.”

Once Trixie left, Skye started to clear the mess from dinner. While she filled the sink with hot water, she asked Wally, “Where do you think Owen really is?”

“Well . . .” He put the leftover salad in a Tupperware bowl before placing it in the refrigerator. “The only thing we know for sure is he’s not with Suzette.”

“Unless . . .” Skye squirted soap under the running water and watched the bubbles foam. “The body isn’t Suzette’s and they ran away together.”

“I suppose anything’s possible.” Wally selected a dish towel from the drawer. “But then, who was under the steamroller?” He dried a plate and placed it in the cupboard. “No one else is missing.”

“True.” Skye washed a handful of silverware. “Besides, I can’t really see Owen doing something that wild. Heck—I can’t picture him having an affair.”

“Sometimes the quiet ones fool you.” Wally finished putting away the dishes.

“Yes, they do. They do, indeed.” Skye turned to stare at Wally. “So, what were you trying to tell me when Trixie arrived?”

“Let’s sit down.” Wally led her to the kitchen table and pulled out two chairs. He cleared his throat before saying, “Darleen contacted me yesterday just before I left for Laurel to testify in court.”

“That would be good news.” Skye smiled hopefully. “Wouldn’t it?”

“That depends.” Wally wrinkled his brow. “She said I owe her for all the money I should have paid her when we got divorced.”

“Oh?” Skye remembered Wally saying his ex-wife hadn’t received a penny from the divorce due to the airtight prenuptial agreement she had signed.

“She claimed that now that she has some powerful friends she’s going to get what she deserves from me.”

“And?”

“And if I want her cooperation in writing a truthful letter to support my request for an annulment, I need to bring her two hundred and fifty thousand dollars.”

“To Alaska?”

“No.” Wally shook his head. “To Chicago. She’s back in Illinois.”

“Please Remember Me”

“D
id you agree to give her the cash?” Skye asked Wally, studying him carefully.

“No. I was in a hurry and I told her I had to think about it.” Wally took Skye’s hands and kissed both palms. “Do you want me to?”

“I’m not sure what I want.” Her first instinct was that Wally shouldn’t give in to Darleen’s blackmail. While Skye was considering how she felt about the matter, she remembered last night’s call. “Oh, my God!”

“What?”

“Someone phoned me last night and left a message for you. He said, ‘Tell your boyfriend what he wants is expensive.’ ” Skye leaped up, ran to the counter, and grabbed the notepad where she’d jotted down the information. “Here’s the number he left.”

“You said ‘he’—so it wasn’t Darleen?” Wally tore off the page and examined it, then tucked it into his breast pocket.

“I’m not sure.” Skye pursed her lips. “It almost sounded like a robot.”

“You can get a gadget from Radio Shack that will disguise your voice.” Wally narrowed his eyes. “Maybe Darleen’s trying to up the ante by involving you.”

“Do you think she’s telling the truth about her ‘powerful’ friends?” Skye asked, part of her not believing Darleen, whom she was convinced was mentally unstable, but another part of her worried that getting mixed up with the wrong kind of people was exactly what Wally’s ex would do.

“Hard to tell.” Wally patted his pocket. “I’ll see if I can have this number traced tomorrow, but odds are it belongs to a disposable cell.”

“I guess we really have no choice but to wait and take it from there.”

“Even if Darleen is telling the truth—which is a big if—and she does have some tough guy backing her up, he’s most likely just egging her on,” Wally reassured Skye.

“True.” Skye bit her lip. “Maybe he thinks getting money from the rich ex will be easy. I wonder if Darleen mentioned you were the chief of police.”

“That is the sort of detail she’d leave out.” Wally squeezed Skye’s hand. “That, and the fact that although my father is rich, I’m not.”

“So where does Darleen think you’ll get the cash?”

“The amount she’s asking for just happens to be the exact sum my mother left me.” Wally’s smile was rueful. “Darleen was always ticked that only my name was on that account, and she couldn’t get her hands on any of it without my permission.”

“Which, of course, you didn’t give her.”

“No.” Wally shook his head. “We were already not getting along and I didn’t think letting her blow my inheritance would strengthen our marriage.”

“True,” Skye agreed. “Well, we can’t do anything about Darleen until you try to trace that phone number.”

“Right.”

“So, what’s our next step in investigating Suzette’s murder?”

“I’ll talk to Owen first thing in the morning.” Wally pulled the pad of paper closer and made a note. “And since we have no other leads, I’ll have my officers tear apart the storage area in the basement and find the file on Suzette’s mother’s death.”

“Shall I talk to the music teacher about Suzette’s father ?” Skye asked.

“Definitely.”

“Anything else you can think of that I should do?” Skye asked.

Wally rose from his chair, pulling Skye along with him and into his arms. “I can think of one or two things.” He leaned down and pressed his lips to her ear. “Let’s see if your ghost will let us try them.”

 

Mrs. Griggs’s spirit must have been out on an otherworldly errand, because for the first time ever Wally and Skye were able to enjoy a pleasurable night in her antique four-poster bed without any household disaster occurring.

By six a.m. Skye had already dropped off Wally at his place so he could change clothes before going to talk to Owen, and had driven to Doggy Daycare. The pale purple building with black paw prints stenciled across the entrance was easy to spot. In the center of the lawn, a six-foot-tall pink fire hydrant topped off by an equally large sparkly tiara acted as a beacon to passersby. And lest someone fail to get the message, there was also a baby blue water bowl the size of a kiddie pool and a bone big enough to have come from a T. rex’s thigh.

Skye clicked Toby’s leash to his collar and led him up the front steps. When she pushed open the glass door, chimes played “How Much Is That Doggy in the Window?”

A thirtyish brunette wearing a lavender T-shirt with the Doggy Daycare logo embroidered across her chest greeted them from behind a rose marble counter. “Welcome to your darling’s home away from home. My name is Puppy Pointer.”

“Poppy?” Skye was sure she couldn’t have heard correctly.

“No, Puppy. P-U-P-P-Y.” The woman enunciated each letter carefully.

“What a cute nickname.” As a school psychologist, Skye had heard a lot of unusual, astonishing, and sometimes downright bizarre monikers, but, surely, Puppy was not on this woman’s birth certificate.

“It’s my legal name.” Puppy raised a bushy eyebrow, daring Skye to comment further. “Now, which of our wonderful services can I offer you today?”

“Uh.” Skye was stunned by the opulence and variety of merchandise on display, not to mention the set of white pointy ears that seemed to emerge directly from the top of Puppy’s head.

“I bet your precious pet is here for a spa day.” Puppy’s tone was perky.

“No. Sorry.” Skye gave an apologetic little cough, wondering what a spa day for a canine consisted of, let alone cost. “I just need to board him until four thirty.”

Puppy studied Toby. “At least let us give him a cut and style.”

“No, thanks.” Skye dug her wallet from her tote bag. “How much for the day?”

“I’m afraid we need to fill out some paperwork before we know what the charge will be.” Puppy held out a rhinestone-encrusted clipboard.

“Fine.” Skye glanced at the questionnaire. Beyond the first few lines, which requested her name, address, and phone number, there was little she could fill in. “Um, I’ve only had Toby for a couple of days, so I don’t know his mother’s name or any of the rest of this stuff.”

“Unfortunately, we can’t take him without that information.”

“Couldn’t you make an exception?” Skye pleaded. “Just for today?”

“Well . . .” Puppy eyed Skye thoughtfully. “Perhaps.”

“I’d really appreciate it.” Skye held her breath. What would she do if Toby didn’t qualify for Doggy Daycare? “How can we make it happen?”

“Because we don’t have proof of his immunizations, we’ll have to keep him separated from our other guests, so we’ll have to charge you an additional fifty dollars beyond our normal daily fee.”

“Fifty
more
?” Skye squeaked. “That seems like an awful lot to feed him and take him out a few times. How much is your regular price?”

“Forty-eight dollars.” Sharp little canines showed as Puppy smiled.

“So ninety-eight total?”
Hell’s bells!
At the rate she was hemorrhaging money, Skye wasn’t sure she could pay her bills this month.

“And there’s a nonoptional eighteen percent gratuity.” If Puppy had a tail, it would have been wagging. “The total bill is payable in advance.”

“That’s highway robbery!” Skye’s face turned red and she badly wanted to slap those cute little ears right off Puppy’s head.

“It’s not my fault you don’t know your own dog’s history.” Puppy shrugged. “Without the completed forms, Toby’s care will be a lot more work for me.” She curled her lip. “Take it or leave it.”

Skye wished she could walk out, but what would she do with Toby? Her only option would be to call in sick, and she couldn’t do that. Too many meetings would have to be canceled and rescheduled.

Vowing that she would find another solution by tomorrow, Skye asked weakly, “Do you take credit cards?”

“Of course.” Puppy straightened her faux ears. “But the extra fee is cash only.”

Skye’s shoulders slumped and she reluctantly placed her credit card, a twenty, two tens, a five, and four singles into Puppy’s outstretched paw.

“You owe me another dollar.”

Skye sighed and dug through the change at the bottom of her purse, coming up with two quarters, four dimes, a nickel, and five pennies.