Murder Of A Snake In The Grass (7 page)

“Her father took her home after he and Simon finished with the body.”

“Oh, I didn’t see Xavier. It must have been while I was dozing.” Skye wondered what else she had missed.

“You fell asleep?” Justin’s voice held bewilderment with a slight undertone of reproach.

“Yeah. It’s one of the body’s great defense systems. It helps you deny anything is happening when you’re upset. After all, if you’re not awake, you can’t be made to face whatever you’re trying to avoid.” Skye inwardly cringed at her clumsy attempt to explain Psychology 101 to the teen.

The drive back into town was considerably slowed by the fog, which had continued to thicken. After taking Justin home, Wally and Skye rode in silence to the police station. A gray wall of cotton candy seemed to surround the car, and neither of them broke the eerie stillness.

As they were parking, Wally said, “I’m surprised you didn’t use this time to ask me a thousand and one questions about the body.”

“What?” She had been thinking about how she would handle the next few moments with Simon and Luc. “Oh, yeah, anything interesting?” Skye asked indifferently. She had a funny feeling that she was going to be far too busy figuring out her own love life to solve this murder for Wally.

“Late thirties to early forties, no identification, but Simon said it looked like Gabriel Scumble, and he was wearing a buckskin costume.”

“But why would anyone want to kill a complete stranger? No one in town knew him.”

“Could be robbery, since he had no wallet on him. Of course, the costume had no pockets, so he could have left his
possessions at the motor court. I’ve got Quirk searching his room.”

She nodded absently and slid out of the car. Her thoughts had already returned to brooding about what was about to happen behind door number one.

At least one of her worries was assuaged as Simon pulled in behind the cruiser. It was a relief to know he hadn’t beat them to the station and had a chance to chat with Luc on his own.

Simon joined Skye and Wally as they entered the PD. Skye muttered, “I hope Luc found a hotel room while we were gone.”

Before either man could answer, Luc rose from the worn vinyl sofa in the reception area and swept Skye into his arms. “Darlin’, I’ve been so worried about you! Out in this vile weather with a dead body.”

Simon and Wally looked at each other. At first each just gave a slight curl of his lips, then one of them snickered, and finally they both burst out laughing.

Skye had been trying to struggle out of Luc’s embrace. Now, he abruptly let her go and said to Simon and Wally, “Messieurs, that is hardly the proper way to treat someone’s concern for a lady.”

“I don’t think you know this lady very well, at least not anymore,” Simon answered, raising an eyebrow in Skye’s direction. “Does he,
darlin
’?”

Luc sniffed and turned to Wally. “What can one expect from a mortician? But you, an officer of the law, should be more of a gentleman.”

Wally, it seemed, was no longer as amused by Luc’s manner. He snarled, “Who the hell do you think you are?”

Luc straightened and pulled the invisible mantle of his money and position into place before answering. “I, sir, am Luc St. Amant, Skye’s fiancé.”

All eyes turned to Skye, who stuttered, “Are you out of
your mind? You’re my
ex
-fiancé—
ex
, do you hear me? I don’t have a fiancé.”

With that, Luc, Simon, and Wally surrounded Skye and started to shout at each other. Since all of the men topped the six-foot mark on the tape measure, Skye at five-foot-seven felt like a bonsai shrub among the redwoods. She gazed from Simon’s hazel eyes to Wally’s brown ones. Both looked hurt and angry.

“Guys.” She tried to get their attention, but they ignored her. “Fellows,” she said more loudly. Again nothing. “Listen up!” she shouted at the top of her lungs. Finally, silence. “I do not appreciate you all discussing me like I’m not even here. None of you has any right to judge me. Is that clear?”

Three heads nodded reluctantly.

“Good. Wally, is there anything you need from me before I leave?”

Wally nodded but turned to Luc. “Mr. Amant, when did you get into town?”

“It’s St. Amant.” Luc shrugged. “I’m not sure, perhaps seven-thirty.”

“What time did he show up your house?” Wally asked Skye.

“He was due at eight, and it was a couple of minutes past when he got there. I looked at my watch when he started knocking.”

“That’s right. I checked the time, too,” Simon said.

“Why are you asking about my arrival time?” Luc asked.

“Just trying to get an idea of where everyone was, and at what time.” Wally glanced at his notes. “So if you got to town at seven-thirty, where were you until eight o’clock when you arrived at Skye’s?”

“Perhaps I was wrong. Perhaps it was nearer to eight when I arrived. I did not look at my watch, so I am not sure.”

“Okay, then, when did Frannie and Justin get there?” The chief scribbled in his notebook.

“I’d say fifteen to twenty minutes before I called and
talked to Thea, so a little after ten.” Skye yawned. “Anything else? I’m beat.”

“One more question.” Wally ran his fingers through the strands of gray and black at his temples. “Are you really engaged to this clown?”

“I already told you, no.” Skye shook her head for emphasis. “Luc and I were engaged when I lived in New Orleans, but that was over two years ago.” She headed to the door. “It’s nearly two in the morning. I’m going home.”

Luc took Skye’s arm. “Yes, darlin’, let’s go home. I’m exhausted.”

Shoot. She’d forgotten about the accommodation problem. Wally and Simon were staring at her as if she’d gone crazy. Reclaiming her arm, Skye said, “Did I mention that Charlie’s cabins are full, as are all the motels in the general area, and Luc hasn’t anywhere to spend the night?”

“Wasn’t he supposed to be finding a hotel in Joliet or Kankakee while we were gone?” Simon reminded Skye.

“That’s right. Did you call around?”

“Sorry, there is no hotel room within forty miles of Scumble River. Joliet is having some kind of car racing event and Kankakee is having some festival or such. It’s really no problem.” Luc moved closer to Skye. “I’ll just stay with you.”

“You are not spending the night with me.”

Luc hung his head, the picture of dejection. “But, darlin’, surely you wouldn’t abandon me?”

Wally stepped into the fray. “Normally, I’d tell you to go to Chicago for a room, but since it’s better for you to stick around, we do have a holding cell in the basement of the PD you could sleep in.”

Luc narrowed his eyes. “You suspect me of murder?”

“As Skye will tell you, I suspect everyone, but what I meant was the fog is too bad to be driving in.”

Skye shot him a glance. Was he telling the truth? His smile was all innocence.

“No St. Amant has ever spent a night behind bars, and I am not about to become the first. Don’t be foolish, Skye. It’s not as if we’ve never slept under the same roof before.”

Skye and Simon looked at each other. He raised an eyebrow; she shrugged.

Simon crossed his arms. “Here’s the deal. And it’s for one night, and one night only. Luc can stay with me.”

Skye turned to Luc. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow about the foundation, and you’d better have papers to show me.”

“That’s it?” Luc asked. “I don’t get any say in this?”

“A woman always has the last word in any argument. Anything a man says after that is the beginning of a new argument.” Skye turned her back on Luc and looked at Wally.

The chief’s face wore a mean scarecrow smile. What was the man up to? He walked through the steel door leading to the rest of the station before she could ask.

Simon grabbed a piece of paper and drew a map to his house. He handed it to Luc. “Here. Skye will take you back to her place so you can pick up your car. I’m locking the door and going to bed in twenty minutes. Don’t bother coming over if you take longer than that.”

To Luc, Skye said, “Go wait in the car. I’ll be there in a minute.”

As Luc left the building, Skye and Simon both sighed. They could hear the mumbled sound of the dispatcher talking behind the reception area’s half-counter, half-glass partition, but otherwise there was blessed silence.

Simon put his arm around Skye. “You realize this situation has all the makings of a disaster.”

She nodded. “And you haven’t thought of the half of it. Wait until my mother and Uncle Charlie hear about it.”

S
kye sprang into a sitting position clutching the sheet to her chest. Bingo, his tail fluffed to twice its normal size, ran under the bed. Someone was in the cottage. The distinctive squeak of the front door had nudged her from a dreamless sleep, but the sound of someone opening and closing drawers shoved her into full wakefulness. What should she do?

The baseball bat her brother had given her as a housewarming gift was propped between her nightstand and the wall. She grabbed it and eased off the mattress unto the floor. Thankful that the thick carpeting muffled her movements, she tiptoed to the bedroom door. It sounded as if the intruder was in the kitchen. Terrific, he was in there with her only phone.

Suddenly the radio blared. What kind of thief turned on the radio to work by? Skye edged the bedroom door open and snuck through the great room, hiding behind first the sofa, then a chair, and ultimately wedging herself between two bookcases. From there she could see through the archway into one corner of the kitchen.

She eyed the distance between her location and the exits. To get out the front door, she would need to pass the foyer’s entrance to the kitchen. If she went out the great room’s French doors, she’d either have to walk around the house,
passing in front of the kitchen windows, or jump into the river and swim for it. She didn’t think she’d make it much past the dam.

One of the things she had always liked about her cottage was the isolation and the idea that the backyard wasn’t accessible except through her property or the water. But now the idea of neighbors was starting to have some appeal.

Shit!
The French doors’ deadbolt locks required a key to open, even from the inside, and hers were on the foyer table. Maybe the window in her bedroom? No, the noise of opening it would attract unwanted attention. She was trapped. Skye sagged against the wall. Okay, she needed to attack. Surprise was her only advantage.

She heard the trespasser open the fridge but couldn’t see him. What in the heck was he doing, fixing himself a sandwich? It didn’t matter; now was the time. His back would be to her, and if she were lucky, his hands would be full. Skye hurtled into the kitchen, bat raised … and skidded to a stop, the bat suspended in midair.

The figure at the refrigerator whirled around, holding four eggs in one hand and a half gallon of milk in the other. Both splattered all over the floor. “What in the world are you doing, Skye? You nearly gave me a heart attack jumping out at me like that.” Skye’s mother grabbed a roll of paper towels and started to wipe up the mess on the linoleum.

As Skye got her breathing back to normal, she stared at the petite woman kneeling at her feet. Not a wave was out of place in May’s short salt-and-pepper hair. She was dressed in black bicycle shorts and a matching tank top, and a red sports bra peeked out from the armholes and neckline. Spotless white sneakers gleamed on her size five feet. When had her mother started dressing like someone in a Nike commercial?

May looked up from her squatting position. “Why are you holding a baseball bat?”

“Because you scared me to death! I thought you were a prowler.”

“Where’s the shotgun your dad gave you? That little piece of wood won’t save you from a robber.”

Skye ignored May’s question and asked one of her own. “How did you get in here?”

“I used my key, of course. Good thing you didn’t have the chain on.” May jumped up holding a soggy mass of paper towels.

“I’ve asked you not to use your key except in an emergency.”

“I came over to fix you breakfast.”

Skye held her temper and focused on the red numbers on the microwave. It was only seven a.m. “What makes breakfast an emergency?”

“I heard this morning at exercise you had a rough night last night.”

Skye hesitated. How much did her mother know? “You mean finding the body?”

May paused. “What else could I mean?” She carefully put down the new eggs she had been holding. “Does the other thing have anything to do with the gift shop you seem to have opened in your living room?”

Skye sank into a chair and buried her face in her hands. Great, now she would have to explain Luc.

“How do you want your eggs?” May had gone back to the important issue, cooking.

“I only want tea and toast. Real food this early makes me queasy.”

May turned from the stove. “Are you pregnant?”

“Of course not! Why would you ask such a thing?”

“I thought maybe that’s why Simon was showering you with gifts. That nonsense in there is from him, isn’t it?”

“Not exactly.” Skye looked at the expression on her mother’s face, and it scared her more than when she had
thought May was an intruder. “Uh, do you think I could have a cup of tea before I get into it?”