Murder of a Smart Cookie: A Scumble River Mystery (32 page)

Skye nodded.

“Or something like this.”

Skye felt her knees weaken as his mouth descended on hers. One part of her mind admonished her that they had to stop all this kissing, but another part asked
Why
?

“Here are the keys to the French doors in back. The silver one opens the lock on the knob, the gold one is for the dead bolt.” Skye passed the ring to Wally, who sat in the passenger seat of her Bel Air.

She had steadfastly refused to discuss yesterday’s kiss or her reaction to it. When she had finally broken it off and fled through the reception area, she had decided that the first priority was to capture Faith. After Faith was arrested, Skye planned to sit down and carefully examine her feelings for both Wally and Simon. And as soon as Simon returned from his trip, she would talk to him about whatever she decided. Only then would she be ready to discuss the matter with Wally.

“Okay. As soon as I hear Faith answer the front door, I’ll slip inside and hide in the bedroom,” Wally said, confirming the plan. “Make sure you stay in the great room so I can hear what’s going on, and don’t get close enough to Faith that she can grab you.”

“How far does the microphone I’m wearing pick up?”

“You’re fine as long as you’re in the same room,” Wally said. “Quirk, a deputy, and one of the techs from the county are parked over at your nearest neighbor’s, monitoring what’s going on.”

“Okay, I’m almost there, so you’d better get out.” Skye watched as Wally left the car. “Did you remember the treats for Faith’s dog?”

He nodded before heading toward the cottage. Skye gave him ten minutes, then drove on. As she pulled into the driveway she felt her stomach clench and was suddenly afraid. She was about to confront a woman who had murdered two people and would have no qualms about killing her, too.

Pushing her fear aside, Skye got out of the car and walked up the steps. She touched her fanny pack, which contained Dante’s stun gun, and hoped that Wally was in place. As soon as she rang the bell, she heard yapping, then Faith’s voice soothing the dog, and finally the door opened.

Faith, dressed in jeans and a purple T-shirt, held the Pomeranian in the crook of her arm. “Come in. I haven’t got all day. What did you want to talk to me about?”

Skye forced herself not to look over the shorter woman’s shoulder toward the French doors. “This won’t take long.” She entered the foyer, keeping eye contact with Faith. “Let’s go sit in the great room.”

The women took seats, Faith on the couch and Skye across from her on a director’s chair. “So what’s so important you had to talk to me in private?”

“Do you have my key?” Skye ignored Faith’s question and followed the city attorney’s direction.

“Here.” From the right front pocket of her jeans Faith produced the key and handed it over to Skye. “Now, why did you want to talk to me?”

Skye reached into her fanny pack, grabbed the folded sheet she had placed on top, and gave it to Faith. “This is a photocopy of one of the letters I have that you wrote to Cookie.”

Twin red circles appeared on Faith’s pale cheeks. “Where did you get this? She promised me she burned my letters after reading them.”

“She lied.” Skye looked Faith in the eye and lied herself. “She gave them to me for safekeeping, in case anything ever happened to her.” The city attorney had mentioned that it probably wouldn’t be a good thing for Skye to admit on tape to having stolen them.

“I don’t believe you. Cookie did what I told her to. She trusted me explicitly.”

“Yet I have the letters.”

“So?” The expression in Faith’s violet eyes was dismissive.

“So, I want a million dollars.”

Faith gave a short bark of laughter. “I don’t have a million dollars. I live from paycheck to paycheck.”

“I understand your collection of swords and Art Deco jewelry is outstanding. Sell them.”

“I’d rather sell my child.”

“Yes, I bet you would.” Skye stared at the woman without blinking. “Okay, here’s an alternative for you. You tell me the truth about what went down around here, I write a book—changing things just enough to protect the guilty—and you help me sell it to TV.”

“I don’t know anything about what’s happened around here.”

“Please, don’t be coy. I’ve guessed most of it; I just need the missing links, like
why
you killed Cookie and Mrs. Griggs,
why
you were at my family’s stand, and
why
you’ve been trying to frame me.”

“I tell you, I don’t know any of that. I didn’t kill them.” Faith’s upper-crust British accent was disappearing and being replaced by the sound of London’s East End.

“If that’s how you want to play it, I guess I’ll go to the police.” Skye paused dramatically. “No, I’ll go to the media.” She got up. “Someone will pay for this story and those letters.”

“You’re batty.”

“Am I?” Skye raised an eyebrow. “Then why has the
National Enquirer
already made me an offer?”

Faith shrugged, her expression indifferent.

“You’re right,” Skye continued as if Faith had answered. “I’m going to hold out for TV. I’ve got a call in to that new reality show,
Shark Attack.
You know, the one where they leap out at celebrities and reveal all their most humiliating secrets.”

“No!” Faith jumped up. “Please.” She grabbed Skye’s arm. “Not
Shark Attack
, That show ends people’s careers. I’ll tell you what you want to know. I’ll help you sell the book to TV.”

“Okay, start with why you and Cookie were at my family’s booth and why you killed her.” Skye freed herself from Faith’s grasp and moved nearer to the bedroom door.

Faith followed. “Cookie wanted to move back to Chicago and live together openly. We argued and didn’t see each other for a couple of months. Then she found out I had gotten engaged to Nick and she went
mad. She threatened to tell everyone that she and I had been lovers if I didn’t go back to her.” Faith clutched her dog so hard it yelped and leapt out of her arms. “My agent is negotiating with one of the big three networks to buy my show and put me on prime time. I couldn’t take that kind of exposure.”

“So you killed her?”

“I didn’t mean to. I told her we could get back together, but we had to keep the relationship quiet. She talked me into driving out to your family’s booth to see an Art Deco liquor cabinet she said I could pick up for next to nothing. That it would be a perfect ‘Faith’s Find.”’

“And?” Skye prompted.

“We were arguing by the time we got there.” Faith started to pace, and Skye was forced to accompany her, afraid the mike wouldn’t pick up her voice if she was facing away from it. “We were standing next to the open cabinet—she had unlocked the door with a straightened-out paper clip—when I told her our relationship would never work. She had to let me go. I reached into my pocket and tried to give her back the jewelry she had given me as a gift on Friday.”

“Mrs. Griggs’s pin.”

“Yes. I didn’t realize at the time that Cookie had broken into the old bat’s house and stolen it. Trust her to get me into trouble even after she’s dead.” Faith scowled. “Anyway, the pin was gorgeous. I hated to part with it, but it was the only way I could think of to make her see I was serious. She refused to take it, and we wrestled over it until the box fell to the ground and the pin popped out. I picked up the pin and started to hand it to Cookie, but at that moment she threatened to expose me.”

“So you killed her.” Skye moved closer to make sure Cookie’s confession was clear on the tape.

“I pushed the pin at her, trying to get her to take it, but it went into her throat. The tip was really sharp, almost like a real arrowhead. At first she went wild, grabbing at me and screaming she’d kill me. Then shock must have set in, and she fainted. I panicked, pushed her into the cabinet, and locked the door with the unbent paper clip she had used to open it.” Faith stopped pacing and faced Skye. “I didn’t mean to hurt her, and according to the officials it was her pulling the pin out that caused her to bleed to death.”

Skye decided not to argue the point. “Then what did you do?”

“There wasn’t much blood, just a little on my shirt and hands. I cleaned up with a towel I had in my car and used it to wipe my fingerprints off everything I could remember touching. Then I put it, my
T-shirt, and the jewelry box into a plastic bag. I stuffed the whole thing into a sewer pipe and piled some dirt on it.”

“What did you wear home?”

“That wasn’t a problem. I always have extra clothes in the trunk.”

“That explains Cookie,” Skye said. “But why Mrs. Griggs?”

“She recognized the pin.”

“What?”

“I’d been wearing the pin Cookie had given me Saturday during the yard sale, and you remember I tried to talk Mrs. Griggs into letting me see inside her house?”

“Yes.”

“Well, later on, when it got out that the pin that killed Cookie had belonged to Mrs. Griggs, she called me and told me she remembered seeing me wearing it the afternoon of the day it was used to murder Cookie.”

“Why didn’t she go to the police?”

“How should I know? Maybe she wanted to blackmail me, too.” Faith shot Skye a spiteful look before starting to pace again. “I convinced her to let me come to her house and explain.”

“But instead you killed her.”

“Not right then. She wouldn’t listen to me. She closed the door in my face, saying she was going to take a nap and think about what to do. I watched until she went upstairs. Then I climbed the trellis, and once she dozed off, I killed her.”

Skye frowned. That must have been when Mrs. Griggs had tried to call her. “You just happened to have the sword in your car.”

“Cookie had sold it to me a few days earlier, and I never took it out of my trunk. When I was looking for something to use to do away with the old crone, I spotted it and tucked it into my belt. It was so big, I nearly couldn’t walk; this time I was prepared. I had latex gloves to wear so I didn’t have to worry about fingerprints.” Faith shrugged. “Then when I circled the house, I noticed the trellis, and there you have it.”

“One last thing. Why have you been trying to frame me?”

“It was convenient. I had access to your things, and I happened to have your earrings in my pocket that day—I had decided to take them because they were too pretty for you. Anyway, it seemed like a good idea to steer the police in some direction other than my own. It wasn’t personal until you started nosing around. Then I thought it would stop you.”

“You were the one who ambushed me at the motor court?” Skye asked, wanting to make sure she covered everything.

“Yes. I covered you with one of the padded tarps we use to protect the antique furniture we buy. I knew you wouldn’t be badly hurt, but I thought a beating would stop your infernal poking around.”

Skye considered. Was there anything else? No. That was it. “Okay, then I’ll write the book and you’ll help me sell it, right?”

“Right. Let me give you my private phone number.” Faith walked into the foyer and picked up her purse.

Skye followed, congratulating herself, and thinking that if things went as planned when Faith stepped outside, Quirk and the deputy would be there to arrest her.

Instead Faith pulled a gun from her purse and aimed it at Skye. “Sorry. Can’t leave any loose ends.”

Shit! She had been stupid and gotten careless. Skye started to back toward the great room, where she could get Wally’s attention, but before she took two steps Faith grabbed her arm and stuck the gun barrel in her back, forcing her through the kitchen and into the utility room.

Skye fumbled for the stun gun, but Faith moved away before she could free it from her fanny pack.

“I think you’ll just fit into this hamper back here.” Faith seemed almost to be talking to herself. “Since you’re so heavy, Nick will just have to come back and help me load it into my car. I can tip it into the river as I drive out of town.”

Skye looked around for a weapon she could use from a distance. There was a bottle of bleach on the washer. She moved in front of it while Faith was emptying out the hamper. Skye managed to take off the cap and get a grip around the neck before Faith finished.

As Faith looked up, Skye flung the bleach in the TV star’s face. At the same instant, Faith raised the gun from her side and fired.

Both women screamed, and Wally burst into the tiny room, yelling, “Skye!”

“
Y
ou’re a very lucky young woman.” The doctor smiled and patted Skye on the head. “The bullet passed through the under part of your upper arm without hitting anything vital. Good thing you had some extra fleshy tissue there.”

It was Monday morning, and Skye was in Laurel Hospital.

“Lucky,” she murmured, thinking this was the only time that a doctor had been happy she had some spare padding on her body. Usually they were advising her to lose weight.

Skye remembered very little about the past twelve hours. At first she had thought that Faith’s shot had missed her, since she didn’t feel anything, but soon afterward the pain was so intense she’d thought she was about to have a heart attack.