Murder of a Sleeping Beauty (16 page)

“You can use the room next door,” Caroline Greer whispered to Skye. “That class is on a field trip.” In her normal voice she said, “Shauna, this is Ms. Denison. You need to talk to her about what you did to Cassie.”

Shauna walked between the adults, out of her classroom and into the next one. Mrs. Greer left them alone.

Skye pulled up a couple of chairs. She urged Shauna to sit and followed suit. “Tell me what happened.”

A stubborn look settled on the little girl’s face, and she crossed her arms. “My mom said I should have had the lead in the recital, and that Cassie’s mom was sleeping with our dance teacher. That’s why she got the lead, not me.”

“Uh-huh.” Skye wasn’t sure if the girl understood what “sleeping with” someone meant. “How did you feel about that?”

“I told my mom she should sleep with the teacher, too. Then I could have the lead.”

“And what did your mom say to that?” Skye still wasn’t sure if Shauna knew what she was saying.

“Mom said she wasn’t a lizzy bean so that wouldn’t work.”

“Did you know what she meant?” Skye asked hesitantly.

Shauna shook her head. “Not really, so I figured if Mom wasn’t going to sleep with my teacher, I’d better make Cassie give me the part myself.”

“So you and Cassie argued about that this morning?”

“Right.”

“And that’s why you cut off her braid?”

The girl twirled one of her own long curls. “Not exactly.”

“Then why, exactly?” Skye asked.

“Mom said that it was too bad we both had long hair, because if Cassie didn’t, our teacher would have to let me be the lead.”

“Oh?” Skye made encouraging noises to continue.

“Yeah, so I took the scissors my mom uses to cut flowers and put them in my backpack, and when Cassie said she wouldn’t give me the lead in the recital, I took them out and cut off her braid.” Shauna looked straight at Skye. “It was easy, like snipping one of my mom’s roses.”

“I’m still not sure how cutting off Cassie’s braid will get you the lead,” Skye said.

Shauna flipped back her waist-length hair and stood. “Because we’re doing
Rapunzel
, silly.”

 

 

 

 

T
he rest of Skye’s morning was taken up by
The Case of the Third-Grade Barber
. Both mothers were summoned, and a great number of preposterous accusations were exchanged. The issue was somewhat resolved with Shauna’s three-day suspension and a quick call to Vince, securing Cassie an immediate appointment to have her hacked hair styled. But Cassie’s mother was still unhappy until Skye contacted the dance teacher, who reassured everyone that Cassie would continue to dance the role of Rapunzel, wearing a wig. Shauna would not take part in the recital in any capacity.

Because of the problem at the elementary school, it was nearly one o’clock by the time Skye reached the high school. As usual, her schedule was shot, and she was trying to play catch-up. For once, the guidance office was unlocked and empty. After stashing her raincoat, Skye grabbed her calendar. Who or what was first?

She had missed two appointments—one with a girl who had been referred to her for impulse-control problems. The teen was making a lot of progress and was nearly ready to be dismissed from counseling. A missed session wouldn’t hurt her.

The other appointment was with a young man whose grades were mysteriously dropping after a lifetime of straight As. Skye had originally suspected either depression or substance abuse, but after several meetings she didn’t see any evidence of either. He claimed he didn’t like the teachers, and Skye was ready to believe him. As Freud said, sometimes a cigar is just a cigar.

Damn!
Skye had almost forgotten the meeting with Homer and Charlie scheduled for two o’clock. Charlie wanted to discuss formulating a crisis plan. While Skye agreed they needed one, she didn’t have time to deal with it just then. But she had no choice. The bosses had spoken. She’d better find the folder of plans she had collected from other schools. Why re-create the wheel when you could ride someone else’s tricycle?

“Ms. Denison?” A voice crept through the door. “You busy?”

“Come on in, Justin. I’m free until two.” It was best to tell kids up front what the timelines were; otherwise, they might think you were ending their session arbitrarily.

Justin slunk in and poured himself into a chair. His dull brown hair hung straight in his eyes, and his pasty skin had blossomed with acne. He was not a candidate for King of the Prom, and it was evident from his demeanor that he knew it.

“Hi, were we scheduled for today?” Skye asked. She didn’t remember seeing his name in her book.

“No. Want me to leave?”

“No. I was worried that I had forgotten an appointment, that’s all,” Skye reassured the skittish boy. “How are things going?”

“Okay.” He shrugged. “I’ve been thinking about Lorelei.”

“Oh?” Skye wondered where this was leading. Justin usually didn’t voluntarily talk to her, or think much about others.

“Yeah. Nobody’s acting sad she’s dead.” A troubled look passed over his normally expressionless face.

“And that bothers you?” Skye asked evenly. If Justin suspected she was interested, he’d close up tighter than a Tupperware container.

“Doesn’t seem right. The only ones that are acting sad are the ones that didn’t really know her. The ones that saw her as a princess, not a real person.” Justin slouched farther down in his chair. “Her so-called friends were nice to her, to her face, and now that she’s dead, it’s like they hated her.”

“That must be very confusing.” Skye ventured a guess.

“Yeah, well, it’s not right.” Justin avoided her eyes.

“Unfair, right?” Skye tried again.

He nodded. “She wasn’t like the rest of them.”

“In what way?”

“The other kids in that clique are all body Nazis.”

“And she wasn’t?” Skye didn’t have a clue as to what he meant, but she often had to keep the kid talking while she figured out the newest slang.

“No. She was always on a diet and talking about exercising, but she wasn’t hard-core. She wasn’t a fanatic who looked down on anyone who didn’t work out like a maniac. She’d even gained a little weight in the last couple of months.”

“How do you know that?” Skye casually slipped in the question, hoping he wouldn’t notice her interest. “You’re a freshman and she was a senior. You’d hardly ever see her.”

“I was helping her with her Spanish.”

“You speak Spanish?” Skye glanced at his file. “I don’t see you signed up for freshman Spanish.”

A trace of color seeped into his cheeks. “Once I got a video game, and the instructions were all in Spanish, so I got a Spanish-English dictionary and translated. Then I started to watch the Spanish-language TV and it just sort of came to me. I got an ear for it or something.”

“That’s amazing. I’ve never met anyone who taught himself another language. I’ll bet you could use that, and your talent for writing, and become a foreign corespondent for a newspaper after you finish college.”

Justin froze, his face deadpan.

It was obvious she had gone too far, gotten too enthusiastic. She quickly backed up and tried a less personal topic. “But how are you still hanging around with that group?” Skye couldn’t picture Justin with Troy and Chase, let alone Zoë.

“Long as I don’t say anything, they don’t even notice me.”

“You said they’re acting like they hated Lorelei. What do you mean?” Skye was relieved he was still talking to her after her gaffe.

“Zoë wants to
be
Lorelei. She wants her part in the play, her boyfriend, and the Miss Central Illinois title.”

“Sounds like Miss Zoë’s life has vastly improved with Lorelei out of the way.” Skye made a note. “Surely Troy is sad.”

“No! He’s happier. It was weird; they weren’t actually together these last few months, but they weren’t really broken up either. It was almost like he didn’t want to be her boyfriend anymore, but she was making him somehow.” Justin sounded near tears. “Now he’s flirting with the other cheerleaders.”

“Really?”

“The only thing on his mind is who he’ll take to prom.”

Skye was so amazed that Justin had shown some emotion that she made another mistake and appeared eager. “Do you know anything about Frannie Ryan?”

His face closed once again, and he shook his head.

She backpedaled quickly. “Do you want me to let you know when Lorelei’s wake will be?”

Justin shrugged. “If you want. I got class. Can I go?” “Sure, let me write you a pass.”

After Justin left, Skye sat back and thought about the conversation. He was full of surprises. Counseling him was like driving through hairpin turns—blindfolded, without any brakes.

It was nearly two. Skye picked up her folder and headed toward the principal’s office. Charlie was already there when she arrived. He and Homer were laughing. That was a bad sign. It meant the men were getting along, and she would get stuck doing all the work.

“Sit down.” Charlie patted the chair next to him. “I was telling Homer about your new car.”

“Charlie says it’s a real beauty. I’d love a ride.”

Skye had never seen the principal appear so excited about anything. His eyes were actually sparkling. “Sure, anytime.”

Homer turned to Charlie and asked, “Does the Bel Air have its original engine?”

Charlie went into a lengthy explanation. Skye’s mind wandered. Would this be her fate, being saddled with a car that only old men admired? At this rate, she’d end up dating one of Charlie’s cronies.

It was over between her and Kent. She just hadn’t told him yet. She had asked her cousin about his supposed affair with Lorna Ingels, and Gillian had said he had been seen with Lorelei’s mother on a couple of occasions. Once someone saw her sitting in his car at the gas station while he was inside paying. Another time they were spotted driving in the direction of Joliet. Gillian said he and Lorna had always had an explanation, which was why she had never mentioned any of this to Skye.

Even before Lorelei’s death, Kent’s narcissism had begun to grow tiresome. It hadn’t bothered her that he was dating other people, but to hear that he was having an affair with a married woman—that was beyond her tolerance limit. Thank goodness she had never slept with the creep.

Too bad things hadn’t gone better between her and Simon yesterday. How could she have been so stupid as to ask him about the autopsy, knowing his disapproval of her playing detective?

She shuddered and tried to refocus by calling the men back to the reason for the meeting. “So, Charlie, you wanted to talk about a crisis plan. Do you have something in mind?”

Charlie smoothed back his mane of white hair. “Yeah, I want it on paper so we can follow it step by step, like a recipe. If something like this girl’s dying ever happens again, damned if we’re going to be caught unprepared.”

“Here are a couple of plans from surrounding schools.” Skye handed the men stapled sheaves of paper.

Charlie flipped through the pages, but Homer barely glanced at his copies.

Charlie was the first to speak. “Why don’t you take the plans you have, and the outline the co-op gave us, and put them together as they apply to our district?”

“Charlie, should we start something like this without the superintendent’s input?” Homer asked anxiously.

“I talked to him this morning, and he gave it his blessing.” Charlie looked at Skye. “Any questions?”

“Yes. Look, without a social worker I’m already doing double duty. This should be done by a committee, or if not that, at least by the co-op coordinator. He would be more aware of what outside resources are available.”

The two men turned to each other. Skye didn’t see whatever signal passed between them, but Charlie said, “Not the co-op coordinator. He doesn’t know the school. We’re all busy, so just fit it in when you can.”

“Okay, but I’m up to my neck right now. I’ve got to start annual reviews soon. The coordinator isn’t doing them this year. I got a message from his office that they’re all mine.”

“I don’t know why we have to meet each year with every parent of every child in special education,” Homer grumbled.

“Because it’s a state and federal law, and it gives us a chance to review progress and plan for next year.”

Charlie stood. “Do the best you can. Try to have it to me by the first Tuesday in May, for the next school-board meeting.”

 

Skye twisted the Bel Air’s rearview mirror toward her and dug around in her tote bag for her makeup kit. The constant drizzle had transformed her smooth pageboy into a mass of waves. She yanked her wide-toothed comb through the ringlets and shoved a headband into place. After she applied lipstick and blush, she was ready to face Wally. Maybe today would be the day he forgave her.

His shift officially ended at three, but now that he was in the process of a divorce, he usually hung around longer.

Her mom was sitting behind the counter as Skye pushed through the glass door. May buzzed her through to the back. “What’s up?”

“I came to talk to Wally.”

“Good luck. According to Thea, he’s been a bear all afternoon. I haven’t seen him since I’ve been on. He hasn’t had the good manners to come out of his office and say hi.”

Before Skye could respond, a male voice spoke from the doorway. Wally stood with his arms crossed and a frown on his face. “May, I would prefer that you not allow your relatives behind the counter. If you look in your handbook, you’ll see it’s against the rules.”

Skye was shocked. If anything, he seemed more angry now than he had been last summer, when she went against his wishes and behind his back. Was it her or was he just having a bad day?

She finally said, “Sorry, Chief Boyd. It won’t happen again. But I did want to speak to you about . . .” Suddenly her mind went blank. What was it she wanted?