Murder of a Small-Town Honey (16 page)

Finally Darleen looked at Skye and started to nibble on a fingernail. The rest of her nails showed evidence that this was a long-standing habit. Her fingers also had yellow stains, suggesting she was a chronic smoker. “No, not really. Well, sort of. I mean we were in the same class, but I never hung around with her or anything. I don’t think she had any girlfriends.”

Skye took the opening that statement provided. “Yes, but I hear she had a lot of boyfriends.”

Darleen looked down at the papers in front of her and shrugged.

“In fact, I just heard today that before she started dating my brother, Honey and Mike Young were closer than two ones in an eleven.” Skye stared at Darleen, daring her to deny the truth.

“I don’t remember.” Darleen’s face had turned an unhealthy shade of red.

Feeling as if she was pulling the wings off a butterfly, Skye leaned closer and said, “Oh, I’m surprised to hear that. I thought you and Mike were dating before Honey stole him away.”

Darleen stood up so suddenly that the chair she was sitting on went flying back and toppled onto the floor. She was trembling when she turned to Skye, and tears were running down her cheeks. “You’re like all the rest of them, asking questions, prying into the past. Leave me alone. Why can’t everybody just leave me alone?”

Darleen ran out of the lounge. Skye sat there, stunned.
I wonder who all the rest of them are? Who else has been prying into her past?

 

At five o’clock, on her way out of the building, Skye stopped at the front office to try once again to talk to Lloyd. Ursula had been telling her all afternoon that he wasn’t seeing anyone. This time she found Ursula gone and the room vacant.

She called out as she walked back toward the principal’s office, “Lloyd, are you busy?”

There was no answer, but she could see that the light in his office was still on. Standing at the partially closed door, she knocked. “Lloyd, it’s Skye Denison. Could I talk to you a minute?”

Silence, except for the humming of a computer monitor. This was beginning to feel like déjà vu. First Mrs. Gumtree’s trailer, then Charlie’s cabin, and now this. Skye forced herself to push the door all the way open and stick her head inside.

The office was trashed. All the desk drawers had been taken out and their contents strewn on the floor. Certificates and plaques that usually hung on the wall were thrown into a pile. It was clear that someone was searching for something and didn’t care who or what got in the way.

As Time Goes By

Once again Skye found herself in the backseat of Chief Boyd’s squad car. Scumble River had recently purchased all new police vehicles, which meant buying two of them. Chevy Caprice Classics had been the mayor’s selection after an arduous brainstorming session. This was not exactly a risky choice, since most police officers in the country drove similar sedans, and Chevrolet manufactured a special line of this model especially for law enforcement departments.

Scumble River’s Caprices were robin’s-egg blue with a map of the river painted in black on both front doors. Chief Boyd’s squad smelled faintly of his aftershave, and something else Skye couldn’t identify.

The interior was exceptionally neat. No candy wrappers, empty soda cans, or other debris littered the floor. The dashboard was dust free and the windshield sparkled. Skye wondered if her mother routinely washed the windows before each of her shifts.

She felt unsettled. After the initial shock of discovering Mrs. Gumtree’s body had worn off, Skye had found the situation fascinating, in a morbid way. Of course, she was upset when Vince was arrested, but she felt resourceful as she took charge and saved him. Talking to people was interesting, and she was astounded at how easily they told her their secrets. But she was getting tired of finding rooms vandalized everywhere she went.

Chief Boyd interrupted her thoughts by opening the door. “Okay, Skye, we’re finished. You can come back inside. I have a few questions to ask.” He smiled. “You know the drill by now.”

Slowly, Skye followed him into the school. He led her to the health room and closed the door. After they were seated, he took out his notebook and clicked his pen. “Tell me what happened. Start with why you were here after everyone else went home.”

She shrugged. “What can I say? I’m either dedicated or foolish, take your pick. The school system hasn’t had a psychologist in almost a year. They still don’t have a social worker. There’s a ton of paperwork that the state and federal agencies require be done . . . in triplicate. I’m trying to catch up so I can do my real job of working with kids.”

“It sounds like my job. More paperwork than police work.”

“In a small town you have to do both—be an administrator and go out in the field.” Skye tried to gain brownie points by demonstrating her empathy.

Chief Boyd nodded and leaned toward her. “Okay, when did Ursula and Lloyd leave?”

“They usually leave between four and four-thirty. I checked with Ursula at about three-fifteen to see if Lloyd could see me. She said he was unavailable but didn’t give any details. Then I got involved with what I was doing and forgot to go back until I decided to call it a day at five.”

“Did you see anyone when you walked from your office to Lloyd’s?”

“No. It was sort of spooky. Like someone gave a signal and the place just cleared out. Or like they’d all been beamed aboard the
Enterprise.
”

The chief made a note. “I’ll have to check and see if this is typical behavior. I don’t suppose you’ve been around long enough to tell?”

Skye shook her head. “Was there anyone in the building when you searched it?”

“We found a custodian in the boiler room, but that was it. Tell me what you did when you found Lloyd’s office trashed.”

“I backed out the door, used the phone on Ursula’s desk, and called you.”

“What did you do until we got here?”

“Well, I knew there was no one in Lloyd’s room or up here in the front office, so I sat in Ursula’s chair where I could see the entrance. The only thing I touched was the telephone and Lloyd’s door. Do you think this has anything to do with the murder?”

He shrugged. “I can’t see how, but you never know.”

Sitting silently, Skye debated whether to mention his wife’s peculiar behavior and what she had found out about Lloyd. She finally decided to tell him what she knew about Lloyd but not mention Darleen. “Ah, Chief, I did happen to hear about a connection between Lloyd and Honey.”

He raised an eyebrow. “How did you ‘happen to hear’ about this connection?”

“I was chatting with Abby Fleming, the district nurse, and she mentioned that Lloyd coached a softball team that she and Honey were on the summer before their senior year in high school.”

“That’s not exactly a close association. He coached various sports for several years. There are a lot of people in town who were on those teams.”

Skye hesitated, not wanting to start an unsubstantiated rumor. “Abby did allude to a closer relationship than student and coach.”

“What do you mean by ‘allude to’?”

“She said they seemed very close. More so than he and other students.”

“This was just an opinion, right? Abby didn’t actually witness any impropriety?”

“No, I think it was only an impression.”

He took her hand. “I know you don’t want to think that Vince could have killed her, but you have to consider the facts. They all point to him.”

Skye snatched her hand from his grasp. “All the facts do not point to him. You have to consider that you haven’t looked at anyone but him. Which makes me wonder why. There are a lot of people in this town who hated Honey Adair and had good reasons to want to see her dead.”

She paused, knowing that if she continued she’d be sorry. Stealing a peek at the chief, she saw a look of condescension on his face and lost control.

Her words tumbled out with no pauses for breath. “Lloyd Stark may have been intimate with her when she was underage. Abby Fleming certainly hated her for breaking up the relationship Abby and Vince had in high school. Charlie Patukas inherits a lot of money with her dead. Mike Young had an intense relationship with Honey until she went after Vince. And last, but definitely not least, your wife had reason to hate her for stealing Mike away.”

Without giving him a chance to reply, Skye stood up and stalked out of the room. She got into her car and drove home, refusing to think about what she had just done. It wasn’t until she was in her bedroom changing clothes that she allowed herself to consider the consequences of her impulsiveness.

She sat on the bed and pounded her knee with her fist.
I hate it when I put my mouth in gear without first engaging my brain. What have I accomplished by provoking Chief Boyd? Nothing. Up until now he has treated me like the old friend I was. He hasn’t done anything to deserve that abuse.

Then an idea crossed her mind, and she stopped hitting her leg. This whole thing could force the chief to look at other suspects.
Maybe this isn’t such a bad thing. Maybe he won’t be angry that I threw his wife’s high school fling in his face. Yeah, and maybe pigs will fly, too.

A glance at her clock radio told her it was five after seven. That Big Mac had been a long time ago. She went into her kitchen, and over to the refrigerator. The shelves were empty. It was time to go to the grocery store.

 

Clouds had continued to roll in, and it was beginning to get dark when Skye pulled into the parking lot of the supermarket. She winced as a flash of lightning illuminated the asphalt. Hunger, stress, and heat had given her a raging headache.

As she cruised the lot looking for an open slot, her emotions ranged from self-pity to outrage, settling somewhere near resignation. In her exhausted state she felt as if she had been looking for a parking place for hours. She recovered somewhat when she saw someone getting into a car parked only three spaces from the door.

Pulling up almost behind the occupied vehicle, Skye put her turn signal on, indicating her intention to claim the spot. True to the tenor of her day, the people in the car took an eternity to get settled and start to move out. Finally their brake lights came on and they began to inch backward.

They were barely out of the parking place when a white Lexus zipped into the space, narrowly missing Skye’s right front bumper. She pounded on her horn, which produced only a feeble whimper, but the auburn-haired driver exited his car and entered the store without glancing back.

Still fuming, Skye finally made her way into the store after being forced to park what seemed like a mile and a half from the door. By that time the rain had started and she was soaked.

Scraping her wet hair back into a ponytail, she headed for the soda aisle. It looked almost as barren as her refrigerator.

She was reaching for the last six-pack of Diet Coke on the shelf when a long, tanned arm reached above her and grabbed it.

Whirling around, Skye came face-to-chest with the man who had stolen her parking spot. As her eyes reached his face, she realized she knew him. It was the coroner, Simon Reid.

Resentment she had only partially contained all day broke loose. “Give that back to me right now!”

“I can’t give it back to you. You never had it to begin with.”

Skye seethed; her voice rose. “First, you snatch my parking place when it was evident to any moron that I was waiting for that car to leave so I could pull in. Then, you rip the last cans of Diet Coke from my hands. What’s next? Are you on your way to steal the Social Security checks from little old ladies?”

The man leaned on his grocery cart, completely at ease and comfortable with himself. “Boy, you sure have a temper. I like a woman who—”

Interrupting him in midsentence, she fought the urge to scream. “I have a temper? You ill-bred, mannerless boor. How dare you? You give that soda back to me or you’re going to be sorry.”

“What are you going to do? Kick me in the shins?” he asked over his shoulder as he walked around the end of the aisle. In his grocery cart, the six-pack of Diet Coke sat in solitary splendor.

Skye started to run after him but stopped before reaching the next aisle. Sagging against the shelves, she thought,
He’s right. What can I do? I’m powerless.

Simon reminded her of her ex-fiancé—selfish and egotistical. It had been only a few months, and the pain he had caused her hadn’t diminished. Not only had he robbed her of her dream to join New Orleans society, he had also taken her self-confidence.

Her head drooped and her shoulders bowed as she returned to the soda aisle and settled for a six-pack of Diet Pepsi. Just like her ex-fiancé, Simon was long gone and she had to live with the consequences. She hated men who made her lose her temper and her Diet Coke.

She finished her shopping and was headed toward the checkout when a voice stopped her. “Hey, Skye, what are you doing here so late?”

She turned to find her cousin Ginger Leofanti Allen hurrying toward her. Ginger was dressed in a garishly striped muumuu that hung on her tiny frame and had rollers the size of juice cans on her head. Her feet were stuffed into canvas shoes that had holes in the toes, and her face was devoid of makeup.

“I got home late from school and found the cupboards bare.” Skye attempted to edge around her cousin.

Ginger gave Skye a hug. “I heard the news about Charlie’s niece. That poor man. How’s he doing?”

Leaning back against the cart, Skye made herself comfortable. She knew there was no graceful way to hurry this conversation along. “He’s doing okay.”

“He’s such a sweet guy. He comes in the bank two or three times a week, and he always stands in line for my window.” Ginger absently rewound a wisp of hair that had escaped from its curler.

“So, what are you doing here so late?” Skye asked. Most people in Scumble River did their grocery shopping right after work and were tucked in watching TV by eight o’clock.