The chief sent Justin to wait on the bleachers and ordered Skye, “Tell me about the boy.”
“Who, Justin?”
Wally nodded impatiently.
Skye quickly sorted out what she had gathered from their counseling sessions, and thus considered confidential, from what was a matter of record. “I’ve been seeing him for nearly two years, ever since I started working for the Scumble River school district. He’s a freshman. We haven’t made much progress. He barely speaks to me. At the end of last year, he almost came around, but thanks to Aunt Mona and her committee, he was denied an essay award he had legitimately won. Now he’s reverted to his previous hostile self.”
“How did she stop him from getting a school award?”
“She didn’t like his essay topic—pro-choice vs. pro-life.”
“Is he dangerous?”
“Hard to say. Justin’s a loner, due to his deep distrust of both adults and peers. He’s a bright boy, with an IQ in the superior range, but he squeaks by with Cs and Ds, so he doesn’t hang out with the Nerds. He’s not athletic, so he doesn’t fit with the Jocks either. He’s both angry and uncommunicative, which is a dangerous combination. I’m worried about the type of group he might eventually find.”
“But what about now? Is there anyone he hangs with?”
Skye shook her head. “Why are you asking all these questions about Justin? Surely you don’t suspect him of being involved with this death. He was with me this period.”
“We don’t even know what happened, let alone when. But since this boy was around, I just want to get a picture of him. Have you talked to his parents? What are they like?”
“I’ve tried to warn his parents of the seriousness of his emotional state, but his mother’s coping with her own depression, and his father’s in poor health. They’re both pretty absorbed in their own needs.”
Wally made a note, and his voice turned formal. “Thanks. Please sit on the bleachers with the boy until you’re dismissed.”
Skye chafed at his brusque tone but did as she was told.
Simon Reid, the coroner, arrived next. As tall as the chief, he had a more sophisticated demeanor. His dark auburn hair and golden hazel eyes reminded her of Gary Cooper. As usual, he was dressed impeccably in a perfectly pressed designer suit.
He rushed past Skye, nodding coolly. He was another of her interpersonal disasters. They had dated for nearly a year after Skye had first returned to Scumble River, but had broken up last summer when he had pushed for a level of intimacy she wasn’t ready for.
Skye sat on the bottom row of the bleachers. Shouts echoed through the cavernous gym. Ceiling lights in their safety cages cast ominous shadows. Justin sat beside her, sneaking worried glances at her face. She knew she should say something to reassure him, but she felt drained and unable to move, let alone make a decision.
Occasionally, she heard the voices of people trying to push past the police officers and enter the gym. Eventually, someone calling her name penetrated her fog. She rose unsteadily from the bench and made her way to the door.
Kent Walker, Scumble River High’s new English teacher, the director of Sleeping Beauty, and the man Skye was half-heartedly dating, was arguing that they should let him into the gym. He was tall and lithe, with a casual grace that spoke of money and privilege. He had caused many heads to turn and hearts to throb when he moved to town last September. Skye had never understood why he chose to date her, especially since there was so little sexual chemistry between them. She had come to the conclusion it was because she shared his wry view about rural life.
He turned away from the officer and demanded, “Skye, tell these buffoons who I am.”
She dutifully said, “This is Kent Walker. He’s the director of this year’s musical.”
“So?” Deputy McCabe took off his hat and scratched his head. “The chief says nobody comes in or goes out. No exceptions.”
She shrugged at Kent. “Sorry.”
His handsome face reddened. “I need to come in.” He dropped his voice. “Is it really Lorelei Ingels?”
Skye hesitated. “I can’t say. The police aren’t releasing the name until the next of kin can be notified.”
Kent’s tone turned frosty. “Why are you treating me like a stranger? I thought we had something between us.”
She raised an eyebrow. Something between them? She didn’t think so. True, they had gone out half a dozen times, but they weren’t dating each other exclusively, and they had never progressed beyond a quick kiss good night.
Skye stared at Kent, who was frowning and tapping his foot. She hadn’t noticed before, but his jaw was slightly receding, and when he tensed it, as he was doing now, it looked as if he had no chin at all. She gazed in fascination as he changed from good-looking to downright ugly. Why am I thinking about Kent’s appearance at a time like this?
Finally, she forced her attention back to the situation at hand. “Sorry, what did you say, Kent?”
“I asked why you’re acting so strangely.” His blue eyes were icy.
“Well, it is quite a shock to find a body in the course of a Wednesday afternoon.” Skye was beginning to feel more like her usual assertive self. Since coming out from under the spell of her ex-fiancé, she had allowed no man to take that belligerent tone with her.
“You’re right, of course. I’m being a beast.” A lock of white-blond hair fell over one eye as he tilted his head. “But could you please talk to that police chief of yours, and see if he’ll let me through?”
She answered automatically, “He’s not my police chief.” At least not anymore. “But if you really want me to, I’ll see what I can do. Why do you need to come in here?”
“I’d rather not explain it twice, just get the chief, okay?”
Skye had opened her mouth to say no, it wasn’t okay, when she caught a glimpse of Wally standing alone. This was her chance.
She hurried over to one side of the stage just as he squatted down. “Wally, could I speak to you for a moment?”
He straightened and glared at her. “Didn’t I tell you to sit on the bleachers and not move?”
He had, and she’d forgotten. “Sorry, I haven’t touched anything.”
“That’s something.” He crouched again. “So, what’s so urgent?”
“Um, well, Kent Walker, the director of the musical, would like to come into the gym, and Deputy McCabe won’t let him.”
“As per my orders,” Wally answered distractedly, his nose almost touching the floor. “Why does he need to be here?”
Skye tried to see what Wally was staring at. It looked like a small piece of tinsel. “He wanted to talk to you about that.”
“And you didn’t insist on knowing?” Wally got to his feet. “Then it’s true. You two are an item.”
“What?” Her eyebrows came together.
“Never mind. Let’s go talk to Mr. Kent Walker.”
CHAPTER 2
Waste of Death
Skye trailed after Wally as he approached the gym doors. Deputy McCabe stood talking to the crowd that had continued to gather. There was no sign of Kent.
The chief stopped at the entrance and turned to her. “Where’s Walker?”
She shrugged. “Maybe he went to the bathroom.”
Wally spoke to Deputy McCabe. “Where did Kent Walker go?”
“Who?” The deputy wrinkled his brow.
Skye pushed past the chief. “The guy you wouldn’t let into the gym.”
“Lots of those. I think nearabouts every parent in Scumble River is trying to get in here.”
Skye blew a curl out of her eyes. “The one yelling my name.”
“Oh, the fella with the funny way of talking. Is he English or something?”
“No, he’s from Boston.”
“Oh, well. He said something about having to go, and walked off.”
“That’s all he said?”
“Yeah.” McCabe twisted his face in thought. “No. Said to tell you he’d see you
later.”
Skye felt her face burn. Wally probably thought she had used this whole incident with Kent just to get his attention.
The chief narrowed his eyes, and Skye waited for the explosion. Instead he said sarcastically, “If there’s nothing else you or your friends require, I’ll get back to work now.” He turned on his heel and started away from the door, then stopped and told Skye, “Go sit on the bleachers.”
“Wally?”
“Yes?”
“I really need to make some phone calls. Couldn’t I just go to the office? I won’t leave the building.”
“No.”
“Why not?” Skye searched his face, but it was blank of emotion. “Could I at least call Justin Boward’s family? They’ll be wondering where he is.”
“I’ll have an officer call. Do you have his number?”
Skye shook her head. “But we can ask Justin.” She turned toward the bleachers. “Where’d he go?”
The chief gave her a disgusted look. “You sit down. I’ll go find him.”
“But . . .” Skye trailed off. Wally was already striding away.
She examined her surroundings. There was nowhere to hide in the gym. It was just a large room with wooden floors and high ceilings. The sidewalls were made up of bleachers folded flat, except for the one extended bench on which she and Justin had been seated, and two locked doors marked GIRLS and BOYS that led to the locker rooms. On the back wall were two sets of double doors. Those to the right were chained shut, and Deputy McCabe guarded the others.
In front and up a short flight of stairs was the stage. It was brightly lit and crawling with police officers examining the scene, sketching, videotaping, and snapping pictures. Others were dusting for fingerprints and collecting evidence.
A door on either side at gym level led to the backstage area. Skye bet that was where Justin had disappeared to. She scanned the area. Wally was talking to a deputy. No one seemed to be looking for the boy. She edged closer to the door on the left. She could hear the officers on the stage talking. One mentioned a pool of vomit near the curtain that he had almost stepped in. Yech! She was glad she hadn’t noticed that bit of evidence.
A quick glance assured her that no one was paying attention to her. Maybe she could take a fast look and be back before the chief noticed. Justin was her responsibility, and she needed to make sure he was okay.
Skye entered the darkened concrete stairwell. There were five steps leading upward. The light from the gym provided the only illumination, and she was surprised to feel a little afraid. Which was silly—the place was crawling with police; nothing could happen to her.
At the top, she paused. Was that voices she heard? To her left was a room used for makeup and dressing, but the sounds were coming from the opposite direction. She carefully eased through the small passage formed from the space between the wall and the stage’s back curtain.
As she approached the room on the other side, the voices stopped. The door stood ajar, and she peered inside. This area was used to store sets and costumes. A space in the back had been cleared and a desk set up for the director.
Standing in the shadows was a male figure. He moved slightly, and Skye saw who it was. “Justin Boward, what are you doing back here?”
The boy shrugged, his face sullen. “Looking around. Nothing to get bent about.”
“Is there someone else back here with you?”
“Nah.”
Skye decided to pursue that later. She scanned the area. There was no sign of disturbance. “We’d better get out front before the chief comes looking for us.”
“Too late,” came Wally’s voice from behind them. He aimed his flashlight at Justin. “Stay where you are, son.”
Skye saw the teen’s Adam’s apple bob nervously.
The chief barely glanced at Skye. “You, go sit on the bleachers, like I told you before.”
“No.” She stepped nearer to Justin. “This boy is my responsibility until his parents get here, and I’m staying with him.”
Wally’s features hardened with anger. He started to say something, seemed to change his mind, then spoke through clenched teeth. “Fine. You.” He pointed at Skye. “Keep your mouth shut, or I swear I’ll arrest you for obstruction of justice. You.” He pointed to Justin. “Tell me what you’re doing back here, and why I shouldn’t arrest you for tampering with evidence.”
The boy stared at the chief, then looked beseechingly at Skye. She raised an eyebrow at Wally. They all stood silently.
The chief sighed and spoke to Skye. “Tell him to answer my questions.”
“You told me to keep my mouth shut.”
Wally groaned.
“Right, a foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds. I forgot,” she said, and hastily continued, “Justin, tell the chief what you were doing back here.”
“He’ll be mad.” The boy shuffled his feet and refused to make eye contact.
“Too late again.” Wally shot Justin an angry look.
“Smart, Wally. That’s the way to get someone to talk to you.” Skye turned her back on the chief. “Justin, unless you had something to do with Lorelei’s death, I’m sure the chief won’t care what you were doing.”
“Sure, I’m just concerned about this incident, nothing else,” Wally confirmed. Skye could tell he was trying the “good cop” routine.
“Promise?” Justin asked.
Both adults nodded.
“Okay, I was trying to get out of here. The cop at the door wouldn’t let me go, and then I thought about something I heard in PE class one time.” Justin took a breath. “Someone told me there was a secret door backstage that would lead you out of the gym.”
Wally’s expression sharpened. “Did you find it?”
“Yeah. It’s right here.” Justin pushed aside a curtain and a half door was revealed.
Skye reached for the knob, but Wally grabbed her hand. “Don’t touch anything. I need to get this whole area fingerprinted.”
Justin’s face reddened. “Ah, I already opened it.”
“Son of a bitch! There goes any evidence.”
Skye couldn’t remember ever having heard the chief swear before. She closed her eyes, remembering once when Wally had spoken about investigating a young person’s death a few years ago, and how much it had disturbed him. He must be experiencing similar feelings now, and that was why he was coming across as such an insensitive and authoritative jerk. Convinced Skye had betrayed him several months ago, and now having to deal with a senseless death, the chief was raising all sorts of emotional defenses.
She tried to save the situation by asking, “Where does the door lead, Justin?”
“The band room.”
“It must be so they can hand their instruments through, without carrying them in the corridors,” she guessed.
Wally focused on Skye. “Why do you say that?”
“With all the additions put on this school, there are some rooms that are right next to each other, but you have to detour through miles of hallway to get from one to the other. That must be the case here. I know the hall dead-ends at the gym.” Skye paused and considered. “Hey, maybe not all is lost. You can have your techs dust the band room. Justin didn’t go in there, right?”
“No.”
“Good.” Skye smiled.
The chief crossed his arms. “One other question, Justin. Why did you want to leave so badly?”
The boy reddened and glanced at Skye before answering. “I need to go to the bathroom.”
It was nearly six by the time the police finished their work in the gym. The stage and the backstage areas remained taped off with bright yellow ribbon, a glaring contrast to the gray gymnasium. Justin had been released to his parents, and most of the crowd had dissipated. Suppers had to be cooked, farm animals had to be fed, and families had to be tended, no matter who died.
Skye, Wally, and Homer were left trying to locate Lorelei Ingels’s parents. Wally had called their residence and spoken to the
ir housekeeper, who’d told him that Allen Ingels, Lorelei’s father, was out of town that day on business and his wife, Lorna, had accompanied him in order to shop and have her hair done. Lorelei’s younger sister was at a neighbor’s playing. They were all expected home by seven.
After a brief discussion, it was decided that Skye, Homer, and Wally would wait for the Ingels at their home. Skye hadn’t been surprised when Homer insisted that she go along. The Ingels were an extremely prominent family—Mr. Ingels was the bank president—and Homer liked to surround himself with other people to deflect any possible blame that might be cast on him. Wally led the way in the squad car, and Homer and Skye followed in the principal’s Taurus.
Ten minutes later, the three of them stood on the Ingels’ doorstep. The housekeeper answered their ring, and after a brief explanation from the chief, showed them into a stark white living room.
They seated themselves, and the housekeeper brought them coffee. Skye winced as Homer put his cup down on the glass table. She hoped it wouldn’t leave a ring.
Skye wiggled, trying to find a comfortable position in the Jacobsen chair she occupied. Except for a family portrait done in oils above the fireplace, and several mirrors hung in strategic locations, the walls reminded her of the inside of a refrigerator.
Homer’s shaggy appearance looked out of place against the streamlined leather couch on which he was perched.
Wally, on the other hand, seemed at ease in a Bauhaus chair as he made notes on a pocket-size pad. He finally looked up. “Homer, you and Skye really don’t have to be here.”
Homer slowly put down the magazine he had been pretending to read. “How would it look to the Ingels and the rest of the community if we let the police take over with no school representation?”
Before Wally could respond the sound of car doors slamming and the front door opening drew their attention. A tall woman dressed in a lime-colored Nipon suit entered. Her champagne-blond hair was perfectly coifed in a shoulder-length flip, and she held a Shizué purse.
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