Murder of a Pink Elephant (6 page)

Skye debated a second, then pulled Charlie aside and told him what had caused Homer’s sudden illness. She hated to be a snitch, but in case Mr. Yoder tried to pull something in retaliation for his son’s suspension, Charlie needed to be forewarned. The last time a Yoder offspring had been suspended, graduation had almost been ruined.

“If brains were dynamite, Homer wouldn’t have enough to blow his nose,” Charlie said, his scowl deepening. “Yoder better not try anything. I still owe him for hurting you when his other no-good kid got into trouble.”

Skye tried to defend the principal and the younger Yoder boy, but Charlie interrupted her, shouting, “The music’s too damn loud. I can hardly hear you. They need to turn it down.”

He took a step toward the stage, but Skye grabbed his arm. “It is too loud, but the kids like it that way. Let’s talk out here.” She tugged him toward the door to the hall,
searching for a topic to distract him. “Do you know anything about Logan Wolfe?”

Charlie scratched his head. “He lives on Hines out between the Leofanti property and the Fraynes’ farm on the next road. His father died when he was young and left him the house and forty acres. Why?”

“I’ll explain in a minute.” Skye didn’t want to tell Charlie about the band fighting, but her godfather knew almost as much as her mother did about everyone in town, and Skye wanted to know more about Logan. She’d have to come up with some excuse for her curiosity. “How does he make a living? Does he farm?”

“He puts in a crop, but on a good year he’d only make about ten thousand before expenses.”

Skye thought of Logan’s rock-star appearance and tried to imagine him dressed in overalls and a straw hat. “So, then, does he have another job?”

“Nothing steady.” Charlie leaned against the wall. “He gives guitar lessons, and I’ve heard recently he’s been doing some solo singing appearances.”

“Mmm.” Maybe that was what the band was fighting about. Did the group have some sort of agreement not to perform without the other members?

“Why all the interest in Logan? He’s married, you know.”

“Great, because I’m not looking to date him.” Skye searched for a reason to explain her sudden interest. “It’s just that Vince is spending a lot of time with this band, and I wanted to know a little about the kind of people they are.”

Charlie didn’t look convinced, but before he could question her further, the door swung out and Frannie Ryan burst through.

“Ms. D., Mrs. Frayne says for you to come right away. There’s a problem.” The girl whirled around without stopping to see if Skye was following her and disappeared back into the gym.

Immediately, Skye pushed through the doors, intent on not losing sight of Frannie. For a moment, the dimness of the gym compared to the bright hallway, coupled with the earsplitting music, made Skye feel disorientated, but she took a deep breath and kept moving.

Frannie was heading toward the back of the gym. Skye caught up to her just as she reached the entrance to the boy’s locker room where Trixie was standing.

Skye said breathlessly, “What’s up?”

Trixie put her lips near Skye’s ear and said, “Nathan Turner is in there.”

“How’d he get in? The door’s supposed to be locked,” demanded Charlie who’d caught up with them.

“I don’t know.” Trixie leaned closer to Skye and explained, “I was patrolling the edge of the dance floor and saw him go in, but when I tried to follow, the door wouldn’t budge.”

“Have you tried knocking?” Charlie’s face was getting red. He didn’t take frustration well.

“Of course.” Trixie shot the older man a scathing look. “But we don’t want to be too obvious, since we’d rather the other kids don’t find out about this.”

“Good thinking.” Skye was almost afraid to ask her next question. She had never seen Trixie in such a bad mood. “Uh, you’ve probably already called for the night janitor to bring his key, right?”

Trixie nodded. “He doesn’t answer his phone.”

Skye thought quickly. “Ace is the gym teacher. He would have a key. Where is he?”

Trixie took off at a run. She returned a few seconds later gripping Ace by the arm. They explained the situation and he unlocked the door.

As it swung inward, they all lurched into the room. Skye regained her balance and looked around. There was no sign of Nathan Turner, but she could hear water running.

Ace said, “Let me look around first. Mr. Patukas, you take care of the ladies.”

“I’ll go.” Charlie glared. “You stay with the girls.”

Skye let the testosterone battle it out. It sounded to her like the kid was taking a shower, and she really had no desire to see the teen naked. Trixie obviously felt the same way, since she didn’t protest the men’s macho attitude either.

Both men stomped off, and a few moments later Ace and Charlie emerged from the back area gripping the arms of a sopping wet Nathan Turner between them.

Skye stared for a second, then asked the first question that popped into her mind. “Why did you take a shower with your clothes on?”

“I was hot.”

The adults exchanged looks. Was this a prank, or was something wrong with the kid?

They all looked to Charlie for guidance. He sat Nathan on the wooden bench and said, “Wait here while I call your folks.”

“Not home.” The teen giggled as if Charlie had suddenly started performing stand-up comedy. Nathan made kissing sounds and said, “They went away for a romantic weekend.”

Ew!
Skye’s mind flashed to an orgy she had accidentally witnessed that past November involving Nathan’s father, mother, and several other prominent Scumble River citizens, but she pushed that picture firmly away, and said, “Who are you staying with?”

“You mean like a babysitter?” He let out another high-pitched giggle. “I’m seventeen, man.”

“Does anyone know if he has an uncle or aunt or grandparent in town?” Skye asked the group.

Everyone shook their heads. She squatted down in front of the teen, trying to get him to focus. “Do you have any relatives around here?”

Nathan gave an exaggerated sigh. “My grandma lives in Laurel.”

Laurel was the county seat and about forty-five minutes from Scumble River. The boy had begun to shiver. It was clear he couldn’t sit around dripping wet for three quarters of an hour.

Ace Cramer stepped forward. “Mr. Patukas, why don’t you help him change into his P.E. clothes, and I’ll go call his grandmother from my office.”

Charlie nodded and hauled the teen upright. “What’s your grandmother’s phone number?” After Nathan answered, Charlie demanded, “Which one’s your locker?”

Skye, Trixie, and Ace left the locker room. Trixie and Ace hurried away, but Skye paused.

Frannie was lingering near the door and asked, “What happened?” as Skye stepped out.

“It’s being taken care of.” Skye was sorry she couldn’t satisfy the girl’s curiosity, but Nathan had a right to his privacy. “How’s everything out here?”

“Fine. They’re so lame. No one’s noticed anything.” Frannie brushed back a strand of long, wavy brown hair.

Skye fingered the sheer sleeve of Frannie’s patchwork lace top and, hoping to change the subject, said, “I like this.” Frannie had a more rounded shape than the current style allowed, and took a lot of teasing from the size twos and fours. Having a similar curvaceous figure herself, Skye had been making gentle wardrobe suggestions to the girl for several months.

“Thanks.” Frannie preened. “Dad let me order some stuff from the Avenue, and today at school one of the Ultras said I looked nice.”

Skye grinned. “That’s awesome.” She had given the teen several catalogs that featured fun and fashionable plus-size clothing and was glad to hear Frannie was getting some positive feedback from the more popular girls.

“
Not that it matters what they think.”

“Of course not.” Skye looked around. “Where’s Justin?”

“How should I know?” Frannie snapped. “Was it my day to keep tabs on him?” She rolled her eyes, then finally answered the question. “He’s dancing with Bitsy. Didn’t you know they were an item?”

“An item item or … ?” Skye didn’t know how to end her question so changed tactics. “A single dance doesn’t mean anything.”

Frannie’s brown eyes shimmered with unshed tears but she swallowed and said in a steady voice, “Who knows? It’s not like I care.”

Skye and Frannie had been talking in loud voices to be heard over the music. When it suddenly stopped, it caught them both by surprise. Skye looked at her watch. It was eight o’clock, time for the band’s first break.

She watched the musicians leave the stage. A sexy twenty-something female dressed in a red micro mini and halter top intercepted Vince as he headed toward the refreshment table, but he shook his head and eased past her. Skye frowned. That girl was not a high school student. How had she gotten into the dance?

Next the girl approached the keyboard player, Finn O’Malley, who glared and plucked her hand from his chest. Rod Yager had already maneuvered around her, but she caught Logan as he came off the last step.

Skye was too far away to hear what was said, but after several minutes of heated conversation, the vocalist took the girl by the arm and pulled her up the stairs, across the stage, and behind the curtain. What was up with that?

“I need to check on how the refreshments are doing,” Skye said to Frannie.

“Okay.” Frannie waved. “See you later.”

Skye walked over to where her brother was waiting in line for a glass of punch. From behind him, she put her arms
around his waist and whispered in his ear, “Buy a girl a drink?”

He whirled around, scowling. “For crying out loud, Heather, I already told you to f …” His words trailed off as he recognized Skye.

“Who’s Heather?”

“No one.”

“So you’re telling no one to f … ?”

Vince didn’t answer; instead he grabbed two glasses of punch. When he handed Skye hers she said, “Is Heather the girl Logan left with?”

Vince’s face turned red, he swore, shoved his cup at Skye, and dashed away.

Shoot! What had she said?
Skye plunked the glasses down on a nearby table and hurried after him. She could only remember seeing Vince this angry one other time, and in that instance he had busted the other guy’s nose. Vince rarely lost his temper, but when he did, all hell broke loose. She had to stop him from doing something he’d regret later.

Vince had disappeared via the same route Logan and the girl had taken. When Skye pushed through the stage curtains in pursuit of him, she paused. The passageway created by the curtains was narrow and dark and smelled of sweat. She knew they were using one of the rooms backstage as their dressing room, but which one?

The first room she came to was full of sets, costumes, and props. As she backed out, she heard hollering and headed in the direction the shouts were coming from. Shoving open the door, she burst in just in time to see Vince punch Logan in the face.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw the girl she assumed was Heather huddled on an old sofa clutching a ratty blanket to her bare breasts. A strange half-smile played around her lips.

The girl caught Skye’s disapproving stare and said, “I
know what you’re thinking, and I’m not cheap.” She giggled. “But I am on special this week.”

Skye didn’t have time to respond. Logan had staggered backward from the force of Vince’s punch, but he righted himself before falling and snatched a folding chair that he smashed over Vince’s head. Vince crumpled to the floor, but Logan kept bashing at him, holding the legs of the chair and using the rigid metal back as a club.

Skye screamed and grabbed the vocalist around the chest, trying to pull him away from her brother. Her heart was thumping in her ears. Logan was too strong for her to stop him completely, but at least she had momentarily drawn his attention from Vince. She shouted to the girl, “Go get some help.”

Heather looked at her impassively and didn’t move.

Skye kept yelling—first at Logan to stop, then at the girl to get help, and finally at her brother to run away. Not one of them followed her directions, although Vince struggled to his feet and stood swaying. His eyes were unfocused and he appeared dazed.

Just as she was losing her hold on the singer, the other two band members charged through the door. Finn grabbed the chair from Logan, threw it out of reach, and then wrapped his arms around the enraged vocalist. As soon as Finn had Logan restrained, Skye backed away. Finn wrestled the smaller man out of the dressing room, hollering at him to calm down. Skye closed the door behind them, wishing it had a lock.

Rod had moved Vince to a chair and she ran to her brother’s side and squatted next to him. “Are you all right? Do you need a doctor?”

Vince leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. She could barely hear his muffled answer, “I’m fine.”

Skye gently probed his scalp. He wasn’t bleeding, but
lumps and bruises were already forming. “Let me call Doc Zello.”

Vince grabbed her wrist. “No. Don’t.”

She looked at Rod, who stood behind Vince. The guitar player shrugged. “His choice, man.”

“Fine.” Skye crossed her arms and glared at her brother. “Then tell me what that was all about.”

Vince started to shake his head but obviously thought better of the movement, answering instead, “Her.” He jerked his thumb toward the girl, who had finally moved off the couch and begun to get dressed.

Rod looked at Vince and Skye, then walked over to Heather, took a firm grip on her arm, and escorted her from the room. The girl’s protests could be heard even after they were in the hallway.

Once she and Vince were alone, Skye said with a note of skepticism in her voice, “You were fighting over a groupie?” Her brother never fought over women. He always said there were too many flowers in the garden to care that much about any particular blossom.

“It’s a long story.”

Why do people always say that?
“Tell me anyway.” Skye’s lips tightened. “Or I’m going to go call Dr. Zello or better yet, Mom.”

He flinched, clearly deciding on the lesser of several evils. “It’s not what you think.”

“I don’t know what I think, except that you’ve lost your mind,” Skye snapped. “Your taste in women has always been iffy, but this is ridiculous.”