Murder of a Pink Elephant (29 page)

Skye kept her expression neutral. “That was a reasonable assumption.”

“I never meant to kill Logan. I just wanted him to get rid of the meth lab.” Ace shook his head. “I asked him how it would look if people found out I was part of something like that—I’d never get elected mayor. He just laughed at me. He forced me to continue to sell meth at school.”

“He really was irrational.” Skye angled herself toward the exit. So Ace had been Logan’s partner, as she had thought. “I’m sure you tried to talk him out of making that horrible drug and selling it to our kids. Any judge and jury would take that into account.”

“They would, wouldn’t they?” A furtive expression crossed Ace’s face. “They’d understand why I had to get rid of Ivy, too. I was shocked that she was continuing the meth lab even though Logan was dead. I pleaded with her to stop, but she wouldn’t. I had no choice but to shoot her and blow up the lab.”

“The courts hate drug pushers. You’d probably get a medal for killing Logan and Ivy rather than go to jail.” It almost gagged Skye to have to say these things.

“Logan said that cooking meth was a lot better than raping the land, which is what I would be doing if I sold the farm to Moss Gibson.” Ace looked at Skye beseechingly. “How could he think like that?”

“His brain was probably damaged by the drug fumes.” Skye was willing to say anything at that moment. She stole a
peek at her watch. The teachers’ bell would be ringing in less than a minute. That would be the time to make a run for it.

“So, I started a little fire in the storage area under the stage, waited for him to run by, and grabbed him. Once I had him out of sight, I hit him on the head with a piece of lumber, shoved him into the fire, and left.”

“Completely understandable,” she soothed. If she could just keep him distracted for a little longer …

“Then you understand why I have to get rid of you, too?” Ace tightened his grip and started dragging her toward the stage. “Good thing they didn’t get too far in repairing the gym since there’s going to be another little fire.”

Skye screamed and he yanked her to his chest, putting one hand over her mouth and twisting her arm behind her back. It hurt, but she forced herself to calm down. There had to be a way out of this mess.

Ace was a lot stronger than he looked, but he was still a relatively small man and Skye was not a petite woman. It was time to use her God-given bulk to her advantage. She pretended to faint. He grunted as her full weight slammed against his body. He let go of her arm and mouth, trying to push her off, and in that instance she shot away from him and ran for the nearest exit.

As she pushed the door open, a cold wind whipped around her, and she plunged outside. She headed for the corner, aiming for the front of the building, but suddenly found herself flat on her chest, the breath knocked out of her. Ace had taken a flying leap and tackled her like she was a football dummy. His muscular body had her pinned to the ground.

Gasping, she tried to get her breath.

She could hear him cursing her. “Bitch, fat cow, nosy whore.”

Skye pulled in a long breath of air and bucked like an untamed
bronco in a rodeo. Ace tightened his hands around her throat and pushed her face into the snowy slush covering the ground. It froze her cheeks and she tried to squirm away.

Her heart roared in her ears, sounding as loud as the six o’clock coal train. Sometime during the struggle her stitches must have been ripped out because blood was dripping into her right eye. She could feel her head start to swim from lack of oxygen, but just before she passed out, he took his fingers from her throat. She managed to take small mouthfuls of cool air.

Now he grabbed her by the shoulders, trying to yank her to her feet. She clung to the dead grass, digging her fingernails into the frozen roots. A pathetic whimper emerged from her injured throat when she tried to scream.

She couldn’t let him take her back inside. Once she was in the gym, there would be no one to find her. She had to think. She’d had classes in both self-defense and takedowns for out-of-control students. Surely she could apply something from that training to this situation. But her facedown position made her helpless. She’d have to let Ace pull her erect.

She waited for him to put all his strength into heaving her upright and then used his own momentum and his lack of balance to push him backward. He fell with a thump, and she heard his head bounce off the frozen ground as she started to run.

She rounded the corner; the parking lot was only a few feet away. Relief flooded through her. She would make it. She’d opened her mouth to call for help when a hand clamped over her lips and an arm grabbed her around the waist from behind.

Acting on instinct, she reached across her body and pinched the inside of his armpit, digging her nails in as deeply as she could, thankful he was wearing a short-sleeve shirt that offered no protection. He jumped back, cursing,
and she swung her fist in a low backward arc, slamming it into his groin.

Not bothering to check the damage she had inflicted, she started screaming for help and sprinted the last few feet to the parking lot.

Homer was just getting out of his car. Skye flung herself at the surprised man and started babbling her story. To his credit, the principal immediately grasped what she was saying, shouted for the teachers and students just arriving to get inside, and hustled Skye through the school’s front door.

He yelled directions as they ran. Skye reminded him of the gate between the gym and the rest of the school, and he sent several of the larger male teachers to close and guard it. Everyone else huddled in the front offices.

Skye dove for the phone on the secretary’s desk as soon as they had cleared the front counter. In less than five minutes a procession of official vehicles led by a Scumble River police cruiser and a white Lexus roared into the parking lot.

Wally leapt out of the cruiser and Simon out of the Lexus. Both raced up the steps and toward where Skye stood just inside the school’s front door.

In unison, Simon and Wally asked, “Are you all right?”

She nodded wearily and hastily told them what had happened. Wally ran off toward the gym, shouting into his walkie-talkie for backup as he ran.

Simon put his arm around her, then questioned her more closely. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yes.” Her throat hurt and her head wound had reopened, but other than some bruises and cuts from being tackled and falling to the ground, she was fine.

Convincing the EMTs was another issue. Finally, after putting a butterfly bandage on her head, checking her throat, and making her promise to go to her own doctor to have the stitches replaced, they made her sign a form stating she refused transport to the hospital.

As the ambulance pulled away, it almost crashed into a Cadillac that came barreling into the parking lot, fishtailing and blowing its horn. The Caddy shuddered to a stop, and the door was flung open. Skye’s Uncle Charlie emerged from the driver’s seat, ran up the steps, and charged through the front door.

He grabbed her in a bear hug, lifting her off the ground. “Baby, are you okay? I heard the call on my scanner.”

“I’m fine, Uncle Charlie. Everything is under control.” Skye managed a tremulous smile.

May and Jed arrived soon afterward, having heard the dispatches on their scanner as well. They too had to be reassured that Skye was in one piece.

Everyone gathered in the principal’s office to wait for Wally. Skye was seated between May and Simon with Charlie and Jed standing behind her. Homer sat at his desk, having sent the teachers and students to wait in the cafeteria until the police searched the building and gave the all clear sign.

It was close to an hour before Wally appeared in the doorway. “The county sheriff and all of my off-duty officers have been searching the building. Cramer is not in the school. I’ve sent them all out looking for him and notified the state police.”

Homer let out a sigh of relief. “Can we go ahead with school?” When Wally nodded, Homer picked up the phone and told his secretary to send the students and teachers to their classrooms.

Wally turned to Skye. “Tell me what happened with Cramer this morning.” He flinched when she got to the part about Darleen but this time didn’t suggest his ex-wife couldn’t or wouldn’t do what Skye had described. After Skye described the events up to when she made it to the parking lot, Wally said to the principal, “Your fast thinking
in closing off the rest of the school from the gym may have saved us from a hostage situation.”

The radio clipped to Wally’s shoulder chirped and they all listened as the dispatcher’s voice said, “Suspect has been apprehended by state police on I-55 just past the Louis Joliet Mall exit.”

They all breathed a sigh of relief.

Wally started to leave but turned back, pinning Skye with a sharp look. “Did it ever occur to you to just come to my door and tell me your suspicions when you couldn’t get me on the phone?”

Skye started to explain her reasoning but gave up and said, “Hey, I used to have a handle on life, but since I came back to Scumble River it seems to have broken off.”

  
EPILOGUE
  

I
t was the beginning of March. Snow and cold had continued, and cabin fever was at an all-time high in Scumble River. Skye was counting the days until spring break, still several weeks away.

She sat at one of the back tables of the new Brown Bag Banquet Hall with Simon, May, Jed, Charlie, Bunny, Trixie, and Owen. They were watching the dancing and listening to Vince’s band. Pink Elephant had changed its name back to Plastic Santa and was once again playing exclusively soft rock. Now it was actually possible to carry on a conversation while the group performed.

Skye took advantage of this to say, “So, what do you think this is all about?”

“To celebrate Wally’s fortieth birthday,” Simon suggested. “Like the invitation said?”

“But no one seems to know who’s throwing the party,” May interjected.

“Maybe Wally is throwing it himself,” Bunny offered. “Sort of a combination birthday and I-caught-the-murderer party.”

Could that be true? Skye had been worried about Wally. He had sunk into a deep depression after learning about
Darleen’s perfidy. It had been all Skye could do to talk him out of pressing criminal charges against his ex-wife for her part in Ace Cramer’s attempt on Skye’s life.

Before Skye could put her thoughts into words, Charlie said, “What I don’t understand is why Ace Cramer went back into the gym after he killed Logan and started the fire.”

“He had met with Moss Gibson earlier and forgotten some papers regarding their deal in his desk drawer,” Skye told him. After she had told Wally about seeing Gibson’s car in the school parking lot the night of the dance, Wally had questioned Gibson, who admitted meeting with Ace but disavowed any knowledge of Ace’s plan to murder his cousin. “Plus he sold meth out of there, and he wanted to make sure he hadn’t left any incriminating evidence in his office.”

Trixie added, “Ace was using kids from the teams he coached as pushers. Stars like Nathan Turner would then suck in the kids who were in awe of them, like Elvis Doozier.”

“What I never figured out was why the custodian called me to meet Homer in the gym.” Skye frowned.

Charlie answered that. “I had a talk with Cal the other day. Turns out, Ace told him this cock-and-bull story about being in love with you and wanting to get you alone. So Cal did him a favor.”

“Oh.” Skye took a sip of her Diet Coke. “The other thing I’m confused about is Rod Yager. I never did find out how he makes a living.”

Owen took a swig of beer before saying, “He buys and sells stuff at flea markets and swap meets.”

Skye raised her eyebrows. Trixie’s husband rarely spoke. “So, was he or wasn’t he a part of the meth business?”

“I know! I know!” Bunny waved her hand like a student with the right answer. “Rod was in love with Ivy, and she used him—at first to get back at Logan for his cheating ways, then after Logan’s death to help her with the meth lab.
He bought the raw materials and did some of the heavy work, but he never cooked the meth or sold it.”

“Hard to believe he would do even that much.” May tsked. “He seemed like such a nice boy.”

Bunny shrugged. “Men are like high heels; they’re easy to walk on once you get the hang of it.”

Before anyone could react to Bunny’s assertion, the music stopped and Vince announced, “Moss Gibson has asked to make a statement.”

Voices buzzed and there was a smattering of applause as the rotund little man walked up on stage and took the mike from Vince. “Good evening, friends. I have some sad news. Due to circumstances beyond my control, I will not be able to build Pig-In-A-Poke Land in this wonderful community. Instead, I will be locating it about an hour south of here. I hope you will all come to the grand opening next summer.”

After he left the stage, Skye leaned over to Trixie and said softly, “I’m so sorry. I know you and Owen were counting on the money from selling your land to Gibson.”

Trixie smiled impishly. “Oh, we still have his money, but now we don’t have to give up the farm.”

Skye’s eyes widened. “How did you manage that?”

“He took an option on our property, which means he paid us twenty thousand to say we would sell it to him at a future date.”

“That’s wonderful!” Skye hugged her friend. “But aren’t you still a little short to pay all your mother-in-law’s debts?”

“I’ll sell my car. My Mustang will bring in the rest of what we need.”

“But you love that car.” Skye patted Trixie’s hand.

“I had my fun with it. There’ll be another car. Farmland, on the other hand, is much harder to come by.”

Skye nodded and turned her attention back up to the front of the hall.

Wally was now on stage and had hold of the mike. “First,
I want to thank you all for being here. I can’t imagine a better way to celebrate my birthday.”

The crowd hooted and hollered.

When they quieted he went on, “I also have an important announcement. I am withdrawing from the mayoral race.” There was a groan from the audience. “I thought I needed a change from police work, that I needed a bigger challenge, but what I found out was that although politics is supposed to be the second oldest profession, it bears too close a resemblance to the first for my comfort level.”