Body Over Troubled Waters

by Denise Swanson

  “That’s a good one.” Skye nodded encouragingly. “Anything else?”

  “I can set boundaries.” Hailey bit her chapped lips. “I can tell them that it’s not okay for them to talk to me like that and let them know that I don’t need their opinions because I have my own.”

  “That’s great too.” Skye hadn’t exactly put it in those words, but if that was how Hailey could use the tactic, more power to her. “Why don’t you try those two things for the coming week and let me know how what happens?” She rose from her chair and Hailey followed suit. As they walked toward the door, Skye added, “We talked about you maybe sharing some of these feelings with your grandmother when she comes to visit next month over spring break. Are you still considering that possibility?”

  “Uh-huh.” The girl tilted her head. “I might even ask her if I can live with her. Ever since Mom died, Dad has sort of given up.”

  The bell rang, and as Skye turned the doorknob to show the girl out of the office, she said, “Let’s talk more about that in our next session. We have six weeks before you need to decide what you want to do.”

  “Okay.” Hailey waved and walked out into the teeming hallway.

  Before Skye could close the door, Piper hurried over the threshold and said, “Mr. Knapik would like to see you before you go home.”

  “Shoot!”

  Skye had been successfully avoiding the high school principal all day. Undoubtedly Homer wanted to discuss Dr. Wraige’s murder.

  Well, not so much discuss as blame Skye. For some reason he was convinced that all homicides in Scumble River were her fault.

  Not so much that he thought that she committed them—at least she hoped he didn’t believe that she was the killer. It was more that Homer was convinced that Skye was some sort of jinx who attracted dead bodies.

  “If you don’t want to talk to him, I’ll wait until you leave and then tell him that I couldn’t find you,” Piper offered.

  “Thanks, but it would only be postponing the inevitable.” Skye locked her desk, grabbed her purse, coat, and tote bag, then walked to the door. “I might as well get it over with while I’m still on the clock.”

  After wishing Piper a good night, Skye made her way to the main office. Opal held the phone to her ear, but she put her finger up for Skye to wait.

  A few seconds later, the secretary hung up and said, “Could you look at this note and tell me what you think it means?”

  Skye took the piece of notebook paper from Opal and read:

  Please excuse Jimmy for being. It was his father’s fault.

  Skye swallowed a giggle and said, “It looks to me as if there’s a word or two missing.” She smiled at the secretary. “I doubt Jimmy’s mom really blames his dad for her son’s existence, but you never know.”

  “Right,” Opal said solemnly. “And if she did, why should she want us to excuse it?” The secretary reached for the receiver. “I guess I’d better call and ask what she meant.”

  “Good idea.” Skye nodded, then walked toward Homer’s lair.

  When she knocked on his door and announced herself, he yelled for her to come in.

  As she stepped across the threshold, Homer said, “I’ve been looking for you all day. So happy you could finally squeeze me in.”

  Uh-oh. Homer sounded even more belligerent than usual. He’d actually been pretty nice to her since she’d saved his bacon last December. This had to be about the superintendent’s death, but why was he angry at her? For once, she hadn’t found the body.

  Homer Knapik had been the high school principal for as long as anyone under the age of fifty could remember. For the past five years, at the end of the school year, he’d announced that he was stepping down. But like a stink bug, he had always returned in the fall.

  Skye was pretty sure Homer never even put in his paperwork, because once the forms were signed and turned into the Teachers’ Retirement System, it was difficult, if not impossible, to reverse the process.

  She wondered if the superintendent’s death would hinder or help Homer’s cat-and-mouse retirement game. She looked in the direction of the aggravating principal and her chest tightened when she saw the man sitting across from him. What was Tavish Wraige doing here? This couldn’t be good.

  Taking a deep breath and hoping the attendance and residency investigator was on his way out, Skye said, “Good afternoon, gentlemen. What is it that you wanted to see me about, Homer?”

  “Have a seat.” Homer gestured to the empty chair. “This could take a while.”

  “I can come back when you and Mr. Wraige are through,” Skye offered.

  “Tavish wants to speak to you before he takes off,” Homer informed her from behind his massive desk. He nodded at the man and said, “Go ahead.”

  After several long minutes of silence, the only sound in the room being Homer slurping from a can of grape soda, Tavis said, “Mrs. Boyd.”

  “Actually.” Skye smiled to take any sting out of her correction. “It’s Denison-Boyd, but why don’t you just call me Skye? When there are no students present, we’re pretty informal around here.”

  “Thank you.” Tavish nodded. “I’d be honored if you’d call me by my nickname. Tavish was my grandfather’s name, and I’ve always used Tav.”

  “Excellent! Tav it is.” Skye beamed, heartened by his request.

  Maybe he’d turn out to be as helpful as Scott Ricci had been. She frowned. That is, if he didn’t end up having committed patricide.

  “The reason I wanted to speak to you”—Tav interrupted her thoughts—“is about the home visit I made this afternoon. My father had directed me to look into the situation before he died, and I felt I should follow through.”

  “Oh?” Skye’s heart skipped a beat. Which of her kids was in trouble? Keeping an affable expression on her face, she asked, “Was there some kind of issue with one of the students I see?”

  “I believe so.” Tav tapped the file in his lap. “It seems that Karl Krause, a boy who is in special education, is here as a foreign exchange student.”

  “Right. He has a mild learning disability and receives some accommodations and one resource class,” Skye explained. “When he came to live with the Glassman family, he brought the paperwork from his home school.”

  “But he isn’t paying tuition.” Tav tilted his head as if assessing Skye’s true knowledge of the situation. “According to the policy manual my father issued to me, the district requires that an exchange student enrolling in our schools must pay nonresident tuition.”

  “I’ve never heard of that.” Skye frowned, then said, “We’ve had foreign exchange students before. Have they been charged tuition?”

  “Not that I’m aware.” Tav glanced at Homer, who shrugged. “However, this is a relatively new policy and Krause might be the first foreign exchange student enrolled since it’s been in place.”

  “Or is he the first one who required special education?” Skye suggested. “Thus, costing the district more money to instruct.”

  Tavish looked uncomfortable. “Anyway. Mr. Knapik was aware of my father’s concern and asked me to report back to him once my investigation was complete. I did so about an hour ago and he suggested we bring you into the loop.”

  Skye stared at Homer. “What is my involvement in the situation?” Doubtlessly it was something that the principal didn’t want to handle.

  Homer jerked his chin at Tav, who answered, “Mrs. Glassman has stated that neither she and her husband nor Karl’s parents are able to pay the young man’s tuition to attend our high school. This means that regrettably, tomorrow will be his last day here.”

  “That’s unfortunate. But why are you telling me?” There were only three months of school left and Skye knew this wasn’t a battle she could win in that amount of time, if ever.

  “The Glassmans have asked that you inform Karl, and Homer
agreed that would be best.”

  “Fine.” Skye blew out a sigh. “I’ll add him to my list.”

  Tav stood and strode toward the door, but paused with his hand on the knob and looked at Homer. “I’ll look into the other matter you asked me to investigate tomorrow.”

  Once Tavish disappeared, Homer slapped down the file he’d been leafing through and snarled, “Why didn’t you warn me that Dr. Wraige had been found murdered?”

  “Why would I?” Skye raised a brow. “It’s not my place to make notifications.”

  Homer shot to his feet and waddled toward her. His stooped stature, protruding belly, and extreme hairiness reminded Skye of an orangutan. That impression was reinforced when he stopped in front of her and she could have sworn his arms hung nearly to the floor. Had they always been like that?

  “You should have given me a heads-up.” Homer thrust out his bottom lip.

  “Why?” Skye was confused. “The board president was informed, and it was up to him to advise whomever he felt needed to know about the death.”

  “Your godfather”—Homer emphasized the word—“told Neva and Caroline before he told me.”

  “So?” Skye couldn’t fathom why he cared who was first on the phone tree. But then again, Homer had a Titanic intellect in a sea of icebergs, so it was difficult to understand his priorities.

  “I have the most seniority.” Homer pouted. “How does it look that I wasn’t first?” He narrowed his eyes, which made them disappear into his face until all Skye could see was a tiny glint of brown. “Is there something going on? Do you know anything? You’d tell me right now if I’m being forced out, right?”

  Skye protested, “How would I know what’s happening with the board?” No way would she be the one to tell Homer that in all likelihood, Neva was getting a promotion and would soon be his boss.

  “Because.” Homer crossed his arms. “Your godfather is the board president.” He glared. “And you’re in bed with the chief of police.”

  “Hey,” Skye complained. “Don’t make it sound so crude. I’m married to the guy, not sleeping with him to get information out of him.”

  “Whatever.” Homer shrugged. “The real issue is what are we going to do about Tavish Wraige? You know he probably killed his father.”

  “What makes you think that?” Skye thought Homer might be right, but she wanted to hear what the principal had to say.

  “Don’t be a wisenheimer with me,” Homer barked.

  “I’m not trying to be.”

  “You know why he’d do it.”

  “No, I don’t.” Sometimes she just didn’t speak Homer’s dialect of crazy. “What would be his motive?”

  “Shamus and his son have been on the outs for years.” The hair growing out of the principal’s ears bristled. “Before a month ago, they hadn’t spoken since Shamus dumped the kid’s mother.”

  “Really?” Skye kept her tone mildly disinterested to keep Homer talking.

  If he thought she really wanted to know what he was saying, he’d stop. But why hadn’t Pru mentioned anything about that? Was she protecting Tavish?

  “Yeah.” Homer made a sound like Chewbacca snoring, which evidently was his way of tsking. “Tavish got into some trouble in the army, and Shamus heard about it. He stepped in and got him an honorable discharge, then offered the kid a job to keep an eye on him.”

  Skye cringed at Homer’s cruel expression. She had to remember that Homer’s skylight was a little leaky and he enjoyed others’ suffering.

  “Aren’t you going to ask me what the kid did?” Homer demanded.

  “Do you know?” Skye had dealt with the principal long enough that she was adept at getting information from him. The secret was to imply he wasn’t in possession of the facts in question.

  “Of course.” He held up two entwined fingers. “Shamus and I were like that.” Homer’s face turned a mottled red and a tear slipped down his cheek. “We were pals. Which is another reason I should have been informed first about his death and not heard about it last.”

  “I’m sorry for your loss.” Skye found herself actually patting the principal’s arm. “I had no idea you were personal friends.”

  “Thank you.” Homer wiped his face with the back of his hand and retreated to his chair where he took a gulp of soda. “Since for once you’re being respectful and nice to me, I’ll tell you about Tavish.”

  “Okay.” Skye crossed her legs. She was dying to know, but attempted to continue to look indifferent. “What caused him to be kicked out of the army?”

  “He was caught in bed with his superior officer’s wife.” Homer snorted. “He claimed that he didn’t know she was married and she came on to him, but evidently, adultery is in violation of Article 134 of the UCMJ.”

  “UCMJ?”

  “The Uniform Code of Military Justice.” Homer harrumphed. “Evidently, Article 134 is mostly ignored, but not when the woman you’re screwing is married to the boss.”

  “Hmm.” Skye processed the information, then mused, “I wonder how Dr. Wraige found out and was able to fix things for his son?”

  “Shamus was keeping tabs on his son.” Homer shrugged. “And I believe he paid off the officer to withdraw the charges. Shamus guaranteed the man that Tavish would leave the army once his service commitment was over and never speak to the guy’s missus again.”

  “What you told me doesn’t sound like a motive for murder.” Skye frowned. “Wouldn’t Dr. Wraige’s actions make Tav grateful to his father?”

  “Would it?” Homer raised a hairy brow. “You’re the psychologist. You figure it out.”

  Chapter 22

  Kiss and Say Goodbye

  Even with the detour to Homer’s office, Skye was in her SUV and pulling out of the high school parking lot by three twenty-nine. Dorothy was taking off early on Friday and had insisted on making up the time by working longer today, so she was on the clock until five thirty.

  Skye slowed the Mercedes down to a crawl. She was undecided what to do with the nearly two hours of freedom that had fallen into her lap.

  It wasn’t that she didn’t have anything to do. There were always tons of errands. The question was, which one to tackle first?

  Dorothy had slowly taken over all of the grocery shopping. When Skye had tried to help, the housekeeper had gotten a stubborn look on her face and stated that as long as she did most of the cooking, she wanted to choose her own ingredients, but Skye suspected it was because she accidently brought home a cucumber when Dorothy had requested zucchini.

  She had also been removed from dry cleaner duty. Ever since the little mix-up in December when she’d accepted an order without checking to see if her husband’s winter uniforms were present and accounted for—they weren’t—and Wally had ended up having to wear a summer shirt and pants, he had claimed that chore.

  Running through her mental list, Skye realized that for once there were no checks to deposit in the bank, they didn’t need cash from the ATM, and she couldn’t mail the birthday gift to her sorority sister in New Orleans because the post office wasn’t open—it closed at two on Fridays. All of which meant that she had nothing pressing to accomplish.

  Grinning, Skye put her foot on the accelerator and steered the SUV out of town. Twenty minutes each way still gave her an hour and a quarter to shop.

  As she carefully maneuvered down the winding road between Scumble River and Kankakee, Skye prioritized the items she needed to buy. The dresses for the Valentine’s dance that she’d ordered had finally arrived and thankfully one of the two sizes fit, but now she needed a strapless bra for the off-the-shoulder neckline.

  Skye could have sworn that she had the required undergarment, but it must have been lost when the tornado destroyed their house. Over six months had passed since the twister, and she was still discovering that items she thought she owned were gone.


  It was too late to order a strapless bra online, which made it her first shopping priority. She also hoped to get some less necessary but more fun lingerie, as all of her current unmentionables were strictly utilitarian and not at all enticing.

  Then, if she had time, she wanted a pair of strappy sandals. Although she could wear her trusty nude pumps, they weren’t really the cool, flirty image she wanted to portray for Valentine’s Day.

  This would be the first occasion since the twins were born that she and Wally would have an entire evening together as a couple. They even had reservations for a suite at the Laurel Inn for after the dance. And Skye had big plans for both the dance and the hotel stay. Plans that would definitely be improved with a sexy new nightie.

  Thanks to their friends Frannie and Justin, who had been happy to earn some extra cash by babysitting the twins overnight, Skye and Wally didn’t have to be home until noon. Frannie and her new fiancé, Justin, had been students that Skye had worked with when she first came to Scumble River. After they had graduated high school, the couple had remained in touch with Skye and the relationship had slowly transformed from professional to personal.

  Having finished college, Frannie and Justin were off on their own adventure working for the Normalton newspaper. They had recently become engaged and were coming back home for a few days to start making some decisions about their wedding.

  Refocusing on what she needed to buy, Skye thought about the twins. Eva and CJ had everything a baby would ever require. Between May and Carson, their closets and drawers were stuffed with clothing and their shelves were filled with so many toys, they’d never play with them all before they outgrew them.

  Sometimes, Skye felt a little put out that she rarely got to buy anything for her own babies. Maybe she’d start donating some of the doting grandparents’ gifts to the women and children’s center. Then she wouldn’t feel so guilty if she purchased an outfit or two and a couple of stuffed animals.

  Turning her attention to Wally, Skye realized his wardrobe was almost as complete as the babies’. He’d replaced most of the clothes that he’d lost in the tornado by ordering online and the rest he’d managed to snag at Meijer while grocery shopping.