Murder of a Small-Town Honey (29 page)

Skye answered, “Chief Boyd explained that. Turns out, in addition to his other nasty habits, Mike took things.”

“What do you mean, took things? He was a thief, too?” Vince reached for his glass.

“Yeah. I’m never letting you set me up with a blind date again.”

Simon took Skye’s hand. “That’s good to hear.”

They were interrupted by a knock on the door and a voice calling out, “It’s Darleen Boyd. Can I come in?”

Jumping out of her seat, May rushed to the door. “You come on in. You’re just in time for dessert.”

Darleen tried to say no, but before she knew it, she was seated between Skye and Charlie. As if by magic, a piece of apple-slice pastry appeared in front of her.

May finally allowed Darleen to speak after everyone was served their sweet. “This is kind of hard to say in front of you all, but I know that you already know most of the story. When Wally stopped by the school and told me about the record of my being blackmailed, I decided to start fresh. I took half a personal day and came over here to explain.”

Skye turned to her. “You don’t owe any of us an explanation. I’m just sorry your personal problems got dragged into the open as much as they have been.”

“But I want to tell you,” Darleen insisted.

Charlie patted her arm. “We’re all ears.”

“Well, Wally and I decided to try and have a baby about three years ago. At first we weren’t concerned when I didn’t get pregnant right away, but then I started to worry. About a year went by and we started talking about getting tested. Before we decided, I got a letter in the mail. I still can’t figure out how Honey found out about this, but we weren’t keeping our attempts to conceive a secret.

“Anyway, the letter revealed that back in high school Mike had a sexually transmitted disease that he gave to Honey, which made her sterile. She figured I must have the same thing and that was why I wasn’t getting pregnant. So she threatened to tell Wally if I didn’t pay her to keep quiet.

“I quit telling Wally I wanted us to be tested and paid up. A month ago Wally insisted that we get examined. When I got the results, I finally came clean with him and stopped paying Honey.”

Skye poured her a glass of iced tea and said sympathetically, “We’re all so sorry.”

Darleen got up and made her way to the door. “You know, I do feel much better now that I’ve talked about it. Since this nightmare started, I haven’t been able to eat much, but now I think I’m actually hungry.”

Those were the magic words that May lived to hear. She packed a lunch and had it in Darleen’s hand before anyone else could bat an eyelash.

Skye’s curiosity was still not satisfied. “I wonder why Honey raised the blackmail amounts so suddenly?”

“I can explain that,” Charlie said. “When I talked to her agent, she said her show had been canceled. She was going to be out of a job come September.”

“This time I have a question for Simon.” Skye pinned him to his seat with her gaze. “How did you find out my favorite flower and brand of chocolates?”

He looked guiltily at May. “I asked your mother.”

There is no such thing as privacy in a small town. Haven’t I just watched a bunch of people learn that the hard way?
Skye straightened. “Let’s get back to Vince’s questions about Mike’s stealing. He never took valuable items, just bits and pieces. People mostly thought they’d misplaced things. When the police searched his place they found boxes of sunglasses, pens, ashtrays, key rings . . . you name it. A lot of the stuff had people’s names on it.”

“Why would he do something like that?” Jed asked.

They all looked at him in surprise, as he rarely contributed to conversations.

“Well, Dad,” Skye replied, “Mike’s family wasn’t anything like ours. His father was an alcoholic and abusive. He must have always felt like an outcast.”

May asked, “How do you know all this?”

“Wally told me about Mike’s dysfunctional family. I’m guessing the rest from my experience as a psychologist,” Skye said.

May frowned. “Seems that people are always just telling you something.”

“After all this,” Simon said, “maybe next time someone tries to confide in you, you’d better not listen.”

 

 

 

 

 

Skye Denison warily studied the hostile faces of Gus Yoder’s parents. As a school psychologist, she often attended uncomfortable meetings, but this one was murder.

Scumble River High School Principal Homer Knapik was seated to her right, and every time she glanced his way, her attention was drawn to the hair growing out of his ears. The long wiry strands quivered like the curb feelers on a car’s wheels. Skye had heard the students call him Mr. Knitpick behind his back, and she was beginning to understand why. The man could not make a decision to save his life . . . or hers.

Across the table Leroy Yoder raged, threatening the school with everything from a law suit to an atomic bomb. He and his wife, Charlene, had come in demanding that their son be allowed to graduate with his class, and nothing either the principal or Skye said seemed to penetrate their anger.

Homer and the parents had been posturing and snarling for over an hour, with no sign that they would stop anytime soon.

Skye watched in hypnotized fascination as a drop of sweat danced on the tip of Leroy’s off-center nose. In Illinois, even the first day of June could have temperatures reaching into the nineties. The underarms of her own blouse were soaked and she squirmed uncomfortably in the plastic chair’s too-small seat.

Tucking a loose chestnut-colored curl behind her ear, she narrowed her green eyes and tried once more to intervene, rephrasing what she had been saying over and over again since they had first sat down. “Mr. Yoder, Mr. Knapik and I have told you that whether or not your son graduates is not up to us. It is a matter you must bring up to the school board. Since we have only a week of school left, you need to request a special hearing so you have a decision before graduation night.”

Homer glared in Skye’s direction and Charlene Yoder hunched farther down in her chair, looking as if she would like to cover her head with her arms.

Leroy Yoder swung his massive head toward Skye and pinned her with his frenetic stare. “I want my son to graduate. Gus passed all his courses. You got no right to keep him from getting his diploma with everyone else.”

She felt sorry for these parents. Like many others, they couldn’t let themselves believe that their child could do the awful things of which he was accused. “As Mr. Knapik and I have explained, our handbook states that a student who is in the process of an expulsion is not eligible to participate in any school activities, including graduation. This is a school board policy. We have no choice in the matter.”

“You people should never’ve started this whole thing. Gus didn’t do nothing wrong,” Leroy shouted.

“He tried to rape a girl at knife point, and was found with drugs in his possession,” Skye stated calmly.

Charlene Yoder started to speak, but was interrupted by her husband, who sprang out of his chair and lunged across the table, bringing his face to within inches of Skye’s. His breath was like a furnace belching rotting eggs, and she unconsciously moved back.

He grabbed her upper arms and dragged her halfway across the conference table. “My son didn’t touch that girl.” Yoder gave Skye a shake as if to emphasize his point. “The boy didn’t have no weapon.” He shook her again. “And Gus don’t use no drugs.”

Skye tried desperately to free herself from his grasp. Her breath was coming in shallow gasps and she felt lightheaded. She couldn’t get her voice to work.

Homer seemed paralyzed. Nothing moved, including his eyes.

After a final shake, she was abruptly dropped back into her chair as Leroy Yoder continued, “The whole business will be thrown out as soon as we get ourselves a hearing.” Ignoring his wife, he stomped out of the room, his words trailing behind him: “Let me make myself clear. Either Gus graduates with the rest of his class or you two don’t see another school year.”

 

It was a relief for Skye to return to her office at Scumble River Junior High. She slid down in the chair until she could rest her head on its back. From this angle, all she could see was the stained white ceiling. The odor of ammonia was strong today, brought out by the humidity, but at least she was spared the sight of the battered, mismatched furniture in the claustrophobic six-by-six-foot room.

Skye didn’t dare complain about the conditions. It had taken a minor miracle to get what she had. In the elementary and high schools, she had to scrounge for any open space each time she needed to work with a student. That meant she had to lug any equipment she needed from school to school like a door-to-door salesman. Still, she counted her blessings. She knew of many psychologists who had it worse.

It was nearly one, but she didn’t want lunch. She was still too upset from the morning’s events at the high school to consider eating. Skye was accustomed to parents whose walls of denial went up like the force field on the Starship
Enterprise
, but the Yoders had no clue that their son was hooked on something, and it wasn’t phonics.

Even though she’d been gone from Scumble River for many years before her recent return, Skye remembered that the townspeople liked to handle their problems by themselves. Still, she was upset that Homer had refused to call the police on Mr. Yoder, and had forbidden Skye from contacting them. She rubbed her bruised upper arms and shivered. Yoder had clearly assaulted her and threatened them both.

After brooding for a bit, Skye remembered the emergency chocolate bar she had stashed away for just such an occasion. In one smooth motion she snatched her key ring, turned toward the file cabinet, and retrieved the candy.

She was just peeling back the silver wrapper of a Kit Kat when the PA blared. “Ms. Denison, please report to the office. Ms. Denison, please report to the office.”

Skye reluctantly rewrapped the bar and tucked it into her skirt pocket. Why did everything always have to happen on a Monday?

The junior high’s new principal, Neva Llewellyn, paced outside her door. She had held the job only since September, having been promoted from high school guidance counselor when the previous principal was forced to leave unexpectedly. For some reason, the Scumble River School District had great difficulty holding on to its employees.

“What’s up?” Skye asked as she stopped in front of Neva.

“It’s Cletus Doozier.”

“Junior’s brother?”

“Cousin. His father, Hap, and Junior’s father, Earl, are brothers.”

“I got to know Earl and Junior pretty well last fall. They really helped me out.” Skye smiled wryly. “That’s quite a family.”

Neva wrinkled her nose. “Wait until you meet Hap. The cheese slid off his cracker long ago.”

“Wonderful. Is that his real name?”

“Far as we know.”

Sighing, Skye asked, “So, what’s up with Cletus?”

“He’s got a black eye and bruises all along the side of his face.”

Skye drew a sharp breath and winced. “Did he say what happened?”

Neva put her hands on the knob. “Says his father beat him up.”

Skye closed her eyes for a moment and shook her head sadly, then gestured for Neva to open the door. She entered the office and looked at the eleven-year-old sitting at the table, coloring. He was small for his age, and his feet dangled above the floor. The left side of his face was entirely black and blue.

She pulled up the other chair. “Hi, Cletus, my name’s Ms. Denison. My job is to talk to kids who need help or have something bothering them. Would you tell me what happened to you?”

“Dad beat on me again last night.” Cletus didn’t raise his head from his drawing.

She knew better than to try to touch him. Abused children didn’t like to be handled. “Has this happened before?”

“Yeah, usually when he’s drunk. But this time I thought he was gonna kill me.” Cletus stared at her with dead eyes.

Skye kept her face expressionless with great effort. Pity was the last thing this child would accept. “Cletus, I have to call and report this. Then someone else will want to talk to you. In the meantime, I’m going to get the nurse to look at you. Okay?”

He nodded without emotion and went back to his coloring.

After closing the door, Skye asked Neva to locate the school nurse and fill her in. Then she found Cletus’s cumulative folder and sat down to call the Department of Children and Family Services to report the abuse.

She was surprised when DCFS said they would have a case worker at the school within the hour and would talk to the parent immediately afterward. It was usually the next day before they sent someone. Skye shrugged. They must be under investigation again.