“Did she ever ask you to do something you didn’t want to do?” Wally asked.
“Sure. Who wants to do fifty laps?” Roxy sneered. “But I knew I had to follow her leadership in order to be a better athlete.”
“Admirable.” Wally’s tone was mild, but the girl stiffened. He raised a brow. “Did everyone on your team feel that way?”
“Everyone who wanted to stay on the team,” Roxy snapped. “You agreed with her methods, sucked it up if you didn’t agree with her methods, or quit the team. That’s the rule.”
“So you didn’t resent Ms. Hucksford for making you do stuff you were opposed to doing?” Skye asked. “Because someone mentioned hearing you and Ms. Hucksford having a pretty loud argument a while ago.”
“No. I definitely did not resent following the coach’s guidelines.” Roxy crossed her arms. “I have a goal, and Ms. Hucksford was helping me achieve it. I may not have always liked what it took to attain my objective, but I was willing to sacrifice to get what I wanted.” Roxy curled her lip. “And yes, occasionally Ms. H and I disagreed on something concerning the team, but in the end it was all about the win. Besides, after we discussed the situation, Ms. H saw my point and agreed to ask Keely to rejoin the squad.”
“Keely Peterson quit the team?” Wally asked. “When was that?”
“Sometime last month, or maybe it was the month before.” Roxy sucked in her cheeks. “But as I said, Ms. H got her to come back.”
“Why did Keely leave?” Skye wasn’t as concerned about the timing as the motivation. “When I was chatting with your father at the dry cleaner’s, he mentioned that you and she were the best players.”
“She had a problem with Ms. H’s methods, but they worked something out.” Roxy flipped her braid over her shoulder. “As usual, Keely got her way, while the rest of us had to toe the line.”
“I see,” Skye murmured, hiding her surprise. Considering both Blair’s reputation and Skye’s own experience with the woman, the coach hadn’t seemed like the type to capitulate to one of her player’s demands.
“What did Keely get her way about?” Wally asked.
“She refused to do some of the team-building stuff, and Ms. H agreed to waive the requirement for her.” Roxy’s mouth formed a pinched-looking pout.
“What kind of activities did Keely refuse to do?” Skye asked.
“The usual.” Roxy refused to meet Skye’s gaze. “I don’t remember the specific ones.”
Skye asked several more questions about Keely quitting the team, but Roxy maintained she couldn’t recall exactly which exercises her teammate turned down. Roxy was getting agitated, and Skye had run out of ways to phrase the same inquiry, so she gave up.
After a few seconds of silence, Wally said, “Tell me about Monday evening.”
“Like I told you yesterday at school when you asked me, Ms. Hucksford scheduled a team practice for six o’clock.” Roxy’s voice was sullen. “We finished up at nine. I showered, dressed, swung by my friend Brit Jeffries’s house to pick her up, and went home. She was spending the night with me so we could study for a math test the next day.”
“You had two volleyball activities on Monday? One in the morning and one in the evening?” Skye asked. Wow! It was no wonder so many people thought Blair was preoccupied with the team. Her obsession with her job made Skye seem like a free spirit.
“Yep. In the morning we swam to strengthen our shoulder and leg muscles, and in the evening we practiced our serving, passing, net saves, and repetition drills.”
“And all that took place in the gym?” Skye asked, wishing she’d had a chance to read Wally’s and Quirk’s reports before this interview.
“Yes.” Roxy examined her fingernails. “Ms. H always reserved the gym, lockers, and pool. She didn’t want any civilians around. And a few of the girls like to take a dip after practice.”
“So no one besides the team members and Ms. Hucksford were present,” Wally said.
“Right.” Roxy nodded. “Sometimes the football players and Mr. Goodson join us, but not that night. It was just the girls.”
“Was there anyone with Ms. Hucksford when you left?” Wally asked.
“There were a couple of kids who were waiting for their rides, but I saw their parents pull into the lot when I was driving away. We all had tests the next day, so no one wanted to stay for a swim.” Roxy blew out an exasperated sigh. “I told you all this yesterday.”
“You didn’t mention Brit Jeffries. Why is that?” Wally asked.
“She’s not on the volleyball team, so I didn’t think you were interested in her.” Roxy heaved another exaggerated sigh.
“Did you and Brit make any detours between her place and yours?” Wally asked, clearly unconcerned with the girl’s annoyance.
“Nope. We went straight to my house,” Roxy said. “Brit and I were both starving, and I had a phone interview with the SWIU coach set up for ten and I sure didn’t want to be late for that.”
“Roxy and Brit had something to eat.” Vanna Alvarez joined the conversation. “Then Roxy talked to that SWIU woman for over an hour. Afterward the girls did their homework, watched TV, and went to bed around midnight.”
“You didn’t mention speaking to the SWIU coach yesterday either,” Wally said sharply.
“I forgot.” Roxy shrugged. “You made me nervous.”
Skye exchanged glances with Wally. The time of death had been set between eleven and twelve, so if they believed Roxy’s parents, she had an alibi. They’d have to check with the SWIU coach and Brit Jeffries, but it looked as if Roxy was in the clear.
Wally continued to ask questions, rewording them to see if Roxy’s story changed.
Finally, Rock Alvarez pushed back his chair and said, “My daughter has answered all your questions several times over. If you don’t have anything new to ask her, we need to get home so she can get started on her homework and my wife can cook supper.”
“Of course,” Wally agreed, but he squeezed Skye’s knee, indicating this was the time if she had anything to add. “We surely don’t want to keep you from dinner. Thanks for your patience.”
“We’re happy to cooperate with the police,” Rock said, standing.
“Mr. Alvarez,” Skye said, getting to her feet and facing him. “Before you all get going, I just wanted to ask you a question.”
“Okay.” Rock twisted his baseball cap in his hands.
“You mentioned at the dry cleaner’s that not all the volleyball parents felt the same way you did about Ms. Hucksford.”
“Right.” Rock’s tone was neutral. “Some of them couldn’t accept the time and commitment that playing on a winning team required.”
“I imagine it is tough with the other extracurricular activities and homework and all the rest of the teenage stuff,” Skye said sympathetically. “Some people think winning isn’t worth the sacrifice.”
“Sure.” Rock’s ears reddened, and his nails dug into the ball cap’s fabric. “But their daughters don’t have a scholarship on the line. It’s important for her to be on a winning team.”
“When we chatted, you seemed like a big supporter of Ms. Hucksford.”
“I was.” Rock straightened his shoulders. “Ms. H saw how talented Roxy was and was making sure she was in line for one of the few spots on a college team.”
“Which parents weren’t on board with Ms. Hucksford’s methods?” Skye asked, then glanced at Roxy. The girl’s expression didn’t mirror the hero worship on her father’s face. Had Blair let her down some way? Although, if her alibi checked out, her feelings about her coach didn’t really matter.
“The Inslees and Mac Peterson were the most vocal,” Rock answered reluctantly. “The rest settled down once the team started winning.”
After Rock stated that he had nothing more to add, the family left and Skye and Wally retreated to his off
ice.
As Wally put the tape recording of the Alvarez interview into a manila evidence envelope, wrote the necessary information on the front, and made a few notes, Skye mulled over what Rock had revealed.
Finally, she murmured, “Parents can be funny about their kids’ participation in sports. I think there was more drama than Mr. Alvarez was willing to reveal.”
“Uh-huh.” Wally didn’t look up. “First thing in the morning, I’ll be talking to the Inslees and Mac Peterson. Maybe Peterson can shed some light on why his daughter quit the team and then rejoined it.”
“Juliette Inslee is on the school paper.” Skye rummaged in her tote bag for her own pen and paper and jotted down a couple of reminders. “There’s something more than meets the eye with that girl. It might be a good idea to arrange for her and Keely to come into the station after school tomorrow so we can question them.”
“You read my mind, darlin’.” Wally placed the completed evidence envelope into a drawer, then locked it and pocketed the key.
“Did Thor Goodson ever contact you?” Skye asked. She couldn’t believe she’d almost forgotten about Blair’s missing boyfriend.
“The ranger found him a couple of hours ago camped out in an unauthorized spot.” Wally stood up. “Goodson’s car had a flat tire and no spare. Evidently, he just happened to have outdoor equipment in his trunk, so he decided to just stay there a few days to recover from his grief.”
“Why didn’t he answer the messages you left on his cell phone?”
“Dead battery.” Wally opened the office door for Skye.
“How convenient.” Skye started down the stairs. “Wasn’t he afraid of losing his job? I mean, you can’t just not show up for work.”
“He used his three personal days to take Tuesday through Thursday off. I’m not sure why Opal didn’t mention that, but I guess we didn’t specifically ask her how much time he was taking off. She did confirm that his leave had been preapproved.”
Wally led Skye into the garage attached to the police station. All the official vehicles were kept there, and Skye could exit through the space to get to her car in the parking lot.
“Again, very convenient,” Skye muttered. “So where is Thor now?”
“The state police arranged to have his car towed and are escorting him to Laurel.” Wally opened the squad car’s door. “He’ll spend the night there in the county jail, and tomorrow I’ll have one of my officers go pick him up and bring him back here.”
“You’re arresting him?” Skye asked. “Can you do that without any evidence?”
“He’s being held for questioning. I think it will do him a world of good to sit in a cell and contemplate the error of his ways. It’ll put him in a more cooperative mood.” Wally winked. “I have forty-eight hours before I have to arrest him or turn him loose.”
“Right.” Skye nodded. “I knew that. What’s wrong with my brain lately?”
“Nothing, sugar.” Wally smiled. “You just have a lot on your mind.”
Wally started to slide into the cruiser, but Skye said, “Oh, speaking of that. I almost forgot. I finally talked to Bernadette. I didn’t get anything about Blair’s will, but her sister did say that she was ostracized from the family due to her exhibitionistic and perverted behavior.”
“What did she mean by that?” Wally scratched his head. “Was she a stripper?”
“Bernadette wouldn’t tell me, but I don’t think it was that.” Skye settled her tote bag more comfortably on her shoulder. “She said that Blair had sold her soul because of a stupid game, so I have to think it had something to do with volleyball.”
“That sport did seem to be her whole life.”
“And sadly,” Skye said almost to herself as she waved good-bye to Wally and headed toward the parking lot, “maybe also the cause of her death.”
CHAPTER 19
THX40—Thanks for Nothing!
Yawning, Skye unlocked her office door. It was 6:37 Friday morning and she was dog-tired. If anyone wanted to see bright-eyed and bushy-tailed today, they’d better go watch a squirrel.
She hadn’t slept well the night before. Her dreams were a scrambled mess of telephones ringing and strobing flashbulbs. It was as if some subliminal courier were trying to send her a message about Blair’s murder.
With one more gigantic, jaw-cracking yawn, Skye stepped across the threshold, came to an abrupt stop, and stared. What in the heck! Rows and rows of boxes were stacked so high she couldn’t see over them. Shoot! How many rubber ducks had she ordered?
Pushing her way among the cardboard cartons, Skye frantically searched the cases until she found the bill of lading. Oh. My. Gosh! She’d added an extra zero and accidentally bought ten thousand rubber duckies instead of one thousand of the plastic fowl. Her bill was for more than fifteen hundred dollars. She hoped they were returnable, or her maternity clothing fund had just taken a hit.
Shit on a shingle! Some days the only good thing about her job was that her chair spun around. Seated behind her desk, Skye dropped her purse to the floor as she read through all the fine print on the invoice. Finally, she found the section on how to send merchandise back to the manufacturer. Her heart rate slowed down and she drew in a shaky breath. Phew! That had been a close one. Thank goodness the company she’d selected offered free shipping on returns.
After stowing her belongings in a drawer, Skye called the custodian to bring his dolly to her office. Cameron arrived a few minutes later, and she requested that two of the crates be moved to the multimedia center. When he was finished with that, she asked him to call the freight company to pick up the rest of the cases.
Giving Cameron the return address label, Skye thanked him for his help and handed over her emergency stash of Archway Cashew Nougat cookies as a reward for his assistance.
With the first step in rectifying her error set in motion, her feelings of panic subsided and she grabbed the box of black permanent markers from her tote bag. As she headed down the hallway, she congratulated herself on having remembered to stop at the store to pick up the Sharpies on her way home the night before.
Skye’s step quickened. The school newspaper staff was meeting in the library at seven, and the kids had only fifty minutes to number a thousand rubber duckies before the first bell summoned them to class. With less than a day and a half until the race, Trixie was busy motivating her cheerleaders to sell more ducks, so Skye was supervising the waterfowl numbering by herself.
There were generally a dozen students involved in putting out the Scoop, and all of them had shown up to help with the ducks. Skye assigned each teenager a specific range of numbers—such as one to a hundred or a hundred and one to two hundred—then passed out the markers. Once everyone was busy working, she strolled down the aisles, watching for problems.
Skye was a little surprised that Blair’s death hadn’t caused any major ripples in the school. As far as she could tell from lingering in the hallway during passing periods and hanging out in the faculty lounge, no one seemed very upset about the volleyball coach’s demise.
In fact, after the initial reaction when Blair’s death was announced on Wednesday, it was almost as if everyone had forgotten about her. A substitute science teacher had been hired for the remainder of the year, and everyone had moved on with their lives.
The school newspaper’s editor, Paige Vitale, shared a table with Juliette Inslee. Paige had just turned seventeen, but she seemed more mature than most other kids her age. Maybe it was because she appeared comfortable in her own skin. Her shoulder-length brown hair was fastened in a low ponytail, and she wore a pair of cropped skinny jeans with a blue-and-white-striped scooped-neck T-shirt. Her makeup was minimal—just lip gloss and mascara—and a pair of silver hoop earrings were her only jewelry.
Juliette’s style was the complete opposite of the older girl’s look. She gave the impression that she spent a lot of ti
me deciding what to wear and selecting accessories for that outfit.
Skye noticed that the Peter Pan collar on Juliette’s shirt exactly matched the fabric of her short black skirt, and her jewelry picked up the floral pattern of the top. Her hair was a perfect blond curtain sweeping down her back and stopping just inches above her tiny waist. Her nails were flawless, as if freshly polished that morning. And her shoes looked brand-new.
As Skye noted the differences between the two young women, she saw that Paige was listening intently as Juliette poured out her heart. Skye was a little uncomfortable with eavesdropping on the girls, but she had a feeling this was her best chance to understand Juliette’s puzzling behavior. Shushing her guilty conscience, Skye ducked behind a bookshelf.
Leaning against the smooth wooden shelves, she realized she’d come in on the middle of the intense conversation. Skye frowned. What had instigated the solemn discussion?
“Well, the thing is, people still think of you the way you were.” Juliette drew a perfect twenty-seven on her duck.
Skye watched as the girl critically assessed her own work, then added a tiny bit more to the seven’s vertical line. Juliette’s penmanship was so precise the Olympic judges would have awarded her a score of ten—unless the Russian judge refused to cooperate.
Satisfied with her duck, Juliette continued. “Even though I lost a ton of weight the summer between eighth grade and my freshman year, some kids still look at me like I’m that same disgusting fat girl that they despised back in junior high.”
“Really?” Paige asked. “I haven’t heard anyone say anything mean about you.”
“They may not say it out loud, but I know they’re thinking it.”
“How can you tell?” Paige selected a bright pink duck from her pile.
“I just can.” Juliette anchored her tongue between her teeth and concentrated on producing an impeccable thirty-two on the side of a bright green duck. When she was finally content with her efforts, she said softly, “Which is why I love being on the volleyball team so much. I’m the only sophomore, and none of the other girls act as if they remember me from middle school.”
Murder of an Open Book Page 17
