Murder of a Barbie and Ken

by Denise Swanson

  “Rough on Dad, you mean. Bunny ignored his wishes completely. She stuck around for a couple of years, but left when I was three.”

  “Was that the last time you saw her?”

  “Oh, no.” The skin across his prominent cheekbones tightened. “That would have been too easy. If she had just divorced Dad, let him get remarried, and disappeared for good, maybe I could forgive her.”

  “But she didn’t?”

  “Every few months she would pop in with a toy, take me to the zoo or a movie, and promise that she was coming back for good real soon.”

  Skye could feel his hurt. She squeezed her eyes shut to stop the tears from falling. “But she never did?”

  “No. Later I found out that she came to visit only when she wanted money from Dad.”

  “Your dad never tried to divorce her?”

  “He loved her until the day he died.”

  Skye kissed his cheek, knowing there was nothing she could say to ease his pain.

  “I was fourteen the last time I saw her. We hadn’t heard from her for nearly five years before that. Then one day I came home after school, and there she was sitting on our front steps.” Simon was silent for a while, then said, his voice thick and unsteady, “She really fooled me that time. She said she was tired of being on the road, and she was getting too old to dance, and she wanted to come back.”

  “What happened?”

  “Dad and I welcomed her home like the prodigal mother. She stayed almost a month. Then one day she was just gone.”

  “No note? No good-bye?” His expression told Skye that something worse was coming.

  “She didn’t leave a thing,” Simon’s face hardened, “but my dad had given her access to his bank account. She took ten thousand dollars from it before she disappeared.”

  Skye gasped.

  “And that was the last time you saw her? She never tried to get in touch?” Skye knew the answer, but had to ask.

  “That was it. To me, my mother died that day.”

  Skye gave him a few minutes to process all that had been said before she spoke. “Maybe your mom did, but Bunny is still alive. And sometimes happiness comes through doors you didn’t even know you left open.”

  Simon put his hand on her cheek. “You’re too soft-hearted, but that’s why I—”

  The moment was shattered by a loud thump, a yowl, and Bunny’s voice yelling, “Damn it.”

  They ran into the kitchen, and were just in time to see Bunny come flying out of the utility room.

  She skidded to a stop, ignored Simon, and said to Skye, “Your cat just ruined my last pair of pantyhose.” Bunny put her hand out. “You owe me five bucks.”

  Skye’s mouth hung open, but no words came out.

  Turning to Skye, Simon shook his head. “And some doors should be nailed shut, sealed behind concrete, and the earth in front of them spread with salt.”

  CHAPTER 6

  It’s no use crying over spilt milk:

  it only makes it salty for the cat.

  —Anon.

  “Sonny Boy?” Bunny studied him. “It is you!” She flung herself into Simon’s arms. “Sonny, my baby, let me look at you.”

  Derision washed over his features, and Simon peeled her off his chest, casting her aside as if she were a piece of lint he had removed from his jacket. “What in blue blazes are you doing here?”

  “Is that any way to greet your mother?” Bunny smoothed her hip-hugging cranberry velvet skirt.

  “Answer the question.” The color of Simon’s face was beginning to match his auburn hair.

  “I came to see you, of course.”

  “How did you find me?” he asked flatly.

  “I went to the old house, and when I saw you had sold it, I figured you’d ended up in Scumble River. You’re just like your dad. I never could convince him that the only difference between a rut and a grave was how deep it is.” She shrugged. “See, no big mystery.”

  Simon crossed his arms. “What do you want?”

  “Why, to spend Thanksgiving with my only son. What else could I want?”

  “Please.” Simon imbued that single word with a paragraph’s worth of meaning. “Thanksgiving isn’t until a week from tomorrow. Besides, what about the last twenty Thanksgivings?”

  “There’s no time like the present.” Bunny retied the bow on her midriff top. “I’m not getting any younger and …” she trailed off.

  “Never mind.” Simon rolled his eyes. “Look, whatever you’re selling, I’m not buying. Pack your things, and I’ll drive you to Joliet or Kankakee. You can catch a bus from there.”

  “But, Sonny, I want to spend some time with you.” She looked up at him and twisted a red curl around her finger. “I know I haven’t always been the best mom.”

  Simon snorted, and Skye sneezed. When she tried to leave the kitchen to get a tissue, Simon grabbed her hand and held tight. She blew her nose on a paper napkin and stayed by Simon’s side.

  Bunny continued as if nothing had happened. “But I’ve always loved you. And I read this article that said a real good dose of quality time is better than just plain old time. I came so we could have some of that quality time together.”

  “Look, I’m not Dad. You can’t come prancing back anytime the urge strikes you and think I’ll welcome you with open arms.” Simon’s face resembled Mount Rushmore. “If you don’t want a ride to the bus station, fine. But you aren’t staying with me, and we certainly won’t be spending any kind of time together, quality, quantity, or quark.”

  Skye shook her head as Bunny sidled up to Simon. The redhead did not know when to stop.

  Bunny put her hand on Simon’s arm and said, “But, Sonny—”

  At that moment the doorbell rang. Skye was relieved to escape to the foyer. She looked out the window. The woman standing on her steps was someone Skye recognized from around town, but she couldn’t put a name to the face.

  She opened the door. “Yes?”

  The slim brunette held out her hand. “Hello. I’m Kathryn Steele, the new owner of the Scumble River Star. Call me Kathy. Are you Skye Denison?”

  “Yes,” Skye answered, cautiously. What was the newspaper’s new owner doing here? She supposed it must be about the murder, although the former owner would never have printed anything about that. He saved his pages for ads and high school sports’ scores.

  “Can I come in?” Kathy edged around the door and closed it, saying, “Let’s not let out all the heat.”

  “Did you want to talk to me?” Skye looked toward the kitchen. Maybe some time alone would be good for Simon and Bunny. “Would you like to sit down?” Kathy seemed like a nice enough person.

  “That would be lovely.” Kathy gestured to the great room. “In here?”

  “Yes.” After they were seated, Skye asked, “So, what can I do for you?”

  “I understand you and your father discovered the Addisons’ bodies this morning, and were the ones to call the police.” Kathy flipped open her steno pad and clicked on her pen. “That must have been awful. How did you feel?”

  “I think awful about covers it.” Skye wasn’t about to give a blow-by-blow description of her and Jed’s not-so-excellent adventure.

  “Why were you there?”

  Skye explained about the Instant Gourmet pickup.

  Kathy didn’t seem to be interested in Barbie’s activities as a saleswoman. Instead she asked, “I understand that you knew Dr. Addison personally.”

  “My boyfriend and I belong to the same club he and his wife did, and we played bridge with their group.”

  “But weren’t you and he especially close?” The newspaperwoman arched a perfectly shaped eyebrow.

  “What?” It took Skye a minute to figure out what the woman had just insinuated. “Dr. Addison and me? No! Not at all. What would give you that idea? As I said, my boyfriend and I traveled in the same social circles with him and his wife. That’s the extent of our relationship.”

  Before Kathy could ask another que
stion, Bunny sauntered into the room. Skye was actually glad to see her until she opened her mouth.

  “Hi, I’m Bunny Reid. Simon Reid’s mother.”

  Skye heard a strangled curse and looked past Bunny. Simon stood behind his mother, his hands curled into fists.

  Kathy looked from mother to son. “I see the resemblance. I’m Kathryn Steele, the new owner of the Scumble River Star.” She rose and extended a flawlessly manicured hand to Simon. “Call me Kathy. So, you’re Simon Reid. I’d love to talk to you, too.”

  Skye narrowed her eyes. Kathy was looking at Simon like he was a Godiva truffle and she had a serious craving for chocolate. Time to put a stop to that. Skye walked over to Simon and slipped her arm through his. “This is the boyfriend I mentioned.”

  “Are you here to write a story?” Bunny asked, oblivious to the undercurrents. “I’m in show business and could sure tell you some juicy stuff.”

  Simon paled. “Bunny, I’m sure Ms. Steele doesn’t have time for tall tales. Let’s go for a ride, and let her and Skye finish their conversation.”

  Bunny stood firm as Simon tried to pull her from the room. Skye’s head pounded. Why had she let the newspaperwoman into her house?

  Kathy sat back, her full red mouth curved into a smile. “I’d love to hear your stories, Bunny.”

  Bunny settled next to Kathy on the couch and started talking. Simon sat in the director’s chair facing them, nervously jiggling his foot. Skye stood by his side.

  She bent down and whispered in his ear, “Why don’t you leave? You don’t really want to hear all this.”

  He shook his head and whispered back, “It’s like a car wreck. I want to look away, but I can’t.”

  Bunny leaned back and crossed her legs, finishing a story about her and a notorious Las Vegas gambler. “So, I said to him, ‘Johnny, I’ll shave my pubic hair in a heart shape for you the day you twist your weenie into a poodle dog shape for me.’”

  Simon groaned, and Skye suppressed a giggle.

  Kathy scribbled furiously, then flipped back through her notes, and frowned. “You seem to have known more famous people than Forrest Gump. How old did you say you were, Bunny?”

  Bunny winked. “Let’s just leave it at somewhere between thirty and a Wal-Mart greeter.”

  Kathy appeared to mull over Bunny’s answer, then got up and smoothed her beautifully tailored red wool suit. “Regardless, you’ve had quite a life.”

  Bunny walked the newspaperwoman to the foyer. “Well, Kathy, I always say that every woman should have a past juicy enough to look forward to retelling in her old age.”

  Skye watched as Bunny waved her new friend out the door, then said to Simon, “Now what do we do?”

  The bell immediately rang and Bunny flung open the door. This time it was Skye’s turn to grow pale.

  Her mother, May, pushed past Bunny, and marched straight to Skye. “What in the name of heaven is going on around here?”

  May had not been happy with Skye’s explanation of the day’s events, and had taken an instant dislike to Bunny.

  Now, Bunny and Simon sat in chairs opposite May and Skye. Skye examined both mothers. May was fifty-seven, and Skye guessed Bunny to be about the same age—more from references to her experiences than from her appearance. Both were about five-two, but May had an athletic build that reminded Skye of the cheerleader her mother once had been, while Bunny looked more like an aging Playboy centerfold. May’s short salt-and-pepper hair took less than five minutes to style each morning. Skye didn’t even want to think about Bunny’s long red curls.

  But the biggest difference was the eyes. May’s emerald eyes shone with a sense of well-being, even when she was bawling out Skye for keeping secrets, while Bunny’s hazel eyes had a haunted look that never quite went away, even when she was laughing. Maybe Skye should point that out to Simon. Or maybe she should mind her own business.

  May whispered into Skye’s ear, “Her fake eyelashes are longer than her skirt.”

  “Mother,” Skye warned.

  Bunny settled back in the recliner and smiled at May. “Charlie told me so much about you.”

  “That’s funny, because he didn’t mention you at all.” May bared her teeth in what was supposed to pass for a smile.

  “That naughty boy.”

  “Yes, Charlie has certainly been a naughty boy.” May turned to Skye. “Tell me again about finding the Addisons’ bodies.”

  Bunny tsked. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me about that as soon as you got home. When that newspaper lady told me about it, I just about swooned.”

  “What newspaperwoman?” May asked Skye.

  Skye explained about Kathryn Steele.

  May fumed. “Let me get this straight. You and your father find two dead bodies, Simon’s mother moves in with you, it’s all going to be in the Star, and you didn’t think to call me?”

  Skye hedged. “I figured Dad would fill you in about the bodies, and I thought Simon should be the first to know about Bunny, and the newspaper thing just happened a minute before you arrived.”

  “I see.”

  “Besides, I thought for sure Uncle Charlie would have let you know.” Skye sneezed and searched her pocket for a tissue.

  “God bless you.” May reached into her purse and handed Skye a Kleenex. “Don’t worry, Charlie’s on my list, too. Along with your father.”

  Skye didn’t need to ask what list May was referring to, because she already knew it was the one she frequently occupied. Instead she asked, “What did Dad do?”

  “He came home, got his gear, and went hunting with the dog. Didn’t mention one word about finding the Addisons.” May crossed her arms.

  “How did you hear about it?”

  “I stopped at the police station to get my check—I forgot to take it last time I was at work—and everyone was talking about the murders.” May frowned. “You and your father made me look like a fool. I had to pretend to know all about it.”

  Before Skye could respond, Bunny bounced out of her chair. “May, honey, it sounds like you had a really hard day. How about the two of us get gussied up and go have a drink? I noticed a couple of real nice-looking cocktail lounges in town.”

  Cocktail lounges? Skye wondered which of the four taverns in Scumble River qualified as a cocktail lounge.

  After a long interval during which May’s mouth kept opening and closing but nothing came out, she finally managed to say, “Tempting as that sounds, I better go home and cook that no-good husband of mine dinner.”

  Bunny leaned close to May and declared, “My motto is always yield to temptation, because it might not pass your way again.”

  Skye wondered just how many mottos Bunny had.

  May shook her head, got up, and grabbed Skye, pulling her toward the foyer. “I’d like a word with my daughter, alone.” And just in case they hadn’t gotten the message she added, “Bunny and Simon, you stay there.” As soon as they were out of earshot, May ordered, “Get rid of that woman.”

  “She’s Simon’s mother. What am I supposed to do, throw her into the snow?”

  “Mmm. That would be quite a show. We could call it Harlots on Ice.” May’s smile was not at all sweet. “Simon wouldn’t care if you threw her out. Heck, he’d probably sell tickets.”

  “That may be how he feels now, but you can’t truly believe that sometime, maybe in the distant, distant future, he won’t hold it against me.”

  “Mmm. You could be right.” May thought about it. “I guess you can’t really kick her out, but she’s got to go. I know, I’ll stop by and tell Charlie he has to find a cabin for her ASAP. I want to have a word with that man anyway.”

  Skye kissed her mom and opened the door. “You do that.”

  May paused as she was leaving. “I don’t understand how someone like her could have a son like Simon.” May tsked. “That woman is an egg short of a carton.”

  “Sometimes I think a lot of people around here are a little scrambled.” Skye waved to her mother
as May climbed into her car.

  Skye shut the door and turned, but the phone rang before she could return to the great room, so she detoured into the kitchen and grabbed the receiver. Wally’s voice greeted her.

  “Hey, Skye. Is Simon at your house, by any chance?”

  “Yes. I’ll get him for you.”

  “Thanks.”

  Skye fetched Simon, and went back to sit with Bunny.

  Bunny said, “Your mama’s real nice. I think we’ll be pals.”

  Skye’s mouth dropped open. Was Bunny totally clueless? How had the woman ever survived in a place like Las Vegas? “It takes Mom a while to warm up to new people,” Skye warned.

  “But I could tell we really made a connection.”

  Skye didn’t know what to say, so she seized the first thought that whizzed past. “What would you like for dinner tonight? I could make pasta or maybe a nice Cornish game hen?”

  The choices at the grocery store had been both limited and a little bizarre. It was too bad the police were keeping the Instant Gourmet meals as evidence. After all, she had already paid for it. But then again, the thought of eating food that had been at a murder scene was pretty revolting.

  “I’m sure Sonny will want to take us out,” Bunny said.

  “No, Simon won’t.” Simon leaned against the wall between the foyer and the great room. He walked over to Skye. “That was Wally. They need me at the crime scene, and then I have to arrange for the bodies to be autopsied. I’ll probably be tied up until fairly late.”

  “That’s what I figured.”

  “I hate sticking you with her. I promise I’ll sort things out tomorrow.” Simon turned to his mother. “I hope you’ll be a considerate houseguest, and not give Skye any trouble.”

  “Why, Sonny, you don’t have to worry about me. I’ve changed. My wild oats have all turned to shredded wheat.”

  “Right, and General Mills has just been made admiral.”

  CHAPTER 7

  Out of the mouth of babes …

  —Old Testament

  Skye balanced two boxes full of testing equipment, a stack of file folders, and a clipboard as she walked down the hall and into the elementary school’s oldest wing on Thursday morning. The smell of mildew hit her full force, making her eyes water and her nose twitch, but she didn’t sneeze. She hoped this meant her cold was getting better.