Murder of a Barbie and Ken

by Denise Swanson

  He nodded and grinned. “The basement has a cement floor, and it’s real good for skating. We took all the dust bunnies from under the beds and put them in a laundry basket and brought them there. It was sorta like fireworks.”

  “What did your parents think of that?”

  “Mom was mad that we used up all of her Final Net, but Dad said it was cool and he’d buy us our own can.”

  CHAPTER 11

  The wheel that squeaks the loudest… gets the grease.

  —Josh Billings

  “What time are you leaving?” It was late Saturday afternoon, and Bunny was on Skye’s bed grilling her about her evening plans.

  Skye stood in front of her closet. Some days it felt like she spent more time figuring out what to wear than wearing it.

  Bingo was sitting on Bunny’s lap purring loudly as she brushed him. The feline and the redhead had become fast friends.

  “Simon’s picking me up at six. We’re going to dinner, then to the GUMB dance.” Skye tensed, sure Bunny would beg to come along, and she’d have to tell her no. Skye hated being in the middle between mother and son.

  “What’re you going to wear? How about the short black number?”

  “This?” Skye reached into the back of the closet and withdrew a black silk sheath with a beaded V neckline and a lace hem. When Bunny nodded, Skye asked, “How did you know I had this dress?”

  “Every woman has a black dress,” Bunny said smoothly with no hesitation.

  Skye narrowed her eyes. “Have you been going through my things while I’ve been away?”

  “Of course not.” Bunny maintained eye contact and an innocent expression.

  She was either telling the truth or a very good liar. Skye would wager it was the latter. “Have you checked with Charlie today?”

  Bunny went rigid. “What do you mean? Why would I talk with Charlie?”

  “About renting a cabin at his motor court.” Skye wondered about Bunny’s reaction. What had happened between her and Charlie after they left the bowling alley last night? “What else could I mean?”

  “Renting a room. Right. I should go call him now. Last night he said some people might check out today.” Bunny lifted Bingo from her lap to the floor, stood, and backed out of the bedroom.

  Bunny was acting odd. Skye shrugged. There was nothing she could do about it—short of interrogating the older woman—and she wasn’t quite ready to do that. Turning back to her closet, she pondered the age-old question: What to wear?

  The flared skirt on the bronze velvet dress swirled around Skye’s knees as she twirled in front of the full-length mirror attached to the back of the bathroom door. Since this was the Thanksgiving Dance, it was a little more formal than usual. She just hoped this outfit was right. Most of the other women attending this function had rich husbands and could afford to purchase their clothing from stores at which Skye could only window-shop.

  The doorbell rang while she was fastening citrine studs to her ears, and she yelled, “Bunny, could you get that, please?” Did she need a necklace? No. The lace insert that veed down the bodice was enough. A swipe of cinnamon lipstick, a spray of Chanel, and she was ready.

  When she opened the bedroom door, she found Bunny and Simon sitting on the sofa. Bunny was saying, “You remember what fun we used to have? Remember that day you ran naked through Grant Park, and skinny-dipped in Buckingham Fountain? You were three and the cutest little boy ever.”

  Simon’s expression softened for a second, then iced over. “I remember you left the next morning.”

  Bunny sagged. “Me and my big mouth. I guess I shouldn’t have mentioned that.”

  “Time to go.” Skye walked over to Simon and pulled him from the couch. Over her shoulder to Bunny she said, “When you get hungry, there’s a couple of TV dinners in the freezer.”

  The exterior of the GUMB Assembly Hall looked different at night. Shadows softened the shabbiness, and hinted at what the building had looked like when it was brand-new. A golden cone of light spilled from the fixture above the front door.

  Although shoveled clean, the sidewalk had glazed over with newly fallen sleet. Simon steadied Skye as her foot slid. “What I don’t understand is why Bunny is still staying with you,” he said. “Surely Charlie has an opening by now. Some people must have left this morning.”

  “She called him while I was getting dressed this afternoon, and he’s still full. I think as soon as one batch of stranded travelers leaves, the weather gets bad again, and another group checks in. Besides, he has only twelve cabins, and they’re usually full of hunters and ice fishermen.” Skye shed her coat, and handed it to Simon to hang up.

  Simon guided Skye to the ballroom. They stopped at the entrance and looked around. It had been dramatically altered since Thursday night’s meeting. Chairs were now positioned along the sidelines, and the wooden dance floor gleamed under twinkling lights strung from the ceiling. Evergreens and flowers had been strategically placed around the periphery.

  Simon frowned, clearly fighting the urge to stay on the subject of Bunny, but took a deep breath instead. Finally he smiled. “Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?”

  “No. I’m fairly sure I’d remember that. You look extremely handsome yourself.”

  He ran a hand down her back. “Your clothes always feel so good.”

  “Thank you. I like to be comfortable as well as look nice.” Skye fingered his burnished gold shirt. “This is a great color on you. It matches your eyes.”

  “If you two are through admiring each other, maybe you could get the hell out of the way so someone else could get in.”

  “I’m so sorry. We wouldn’t want to keep you from anything important,” Simon apologized and moved aside. He murmured to Skye as Nate Turner pushed his way past, dragging a barely dressed woman in his wake, “Like an appointment with Miss Manners.”

  “Is that his wife he’s towing behind him like a bass boat?” Skye asked.

  “That’s Polly, and, yes, she is a little dinghy.”

  Skye snickered at Simon’s joke, then said, “I feel sorry for her. He’s the most obnoxious man I’ve run into in a long time.” She described his behavior at the grocery store on Wednesday. “Why did they nominate him for head honcho?”

  “Assmosis. He kissed up to the movers and shakers.”

  It took Skye a second to get it, but then she giggled. “Simon Reid, I can’t believe you said that.”

  “I’m chock-full of surprises.”

  “You know, despite everything, you and your mother do have some traits in common.”

  “Yeah, we breathe.” Simon took her hand. “So, do you want to dance, or talk about Bunny?”

  “Dance.” Skye had never enjoyed dancing until she met Simon. She had no sense of rhythm, but his natural grace and casual expertise made her feel like Ginger Rogers.

  They entered the dance floor and were immediately swept into the crowd. Skye recognized most of the couples on the floor. Everyone from Thursday’s business meeting was there, but many of those men seemed to be doing more talking than dancing. Several of the wives sat on chairs lined up against the wall and looked bored.

  When the band took a break, Skye said, “Let’s go say hi to Vince.” Her brother was the drummer in the group.

  “Sure.” Simon cupped her elbow and they moved toward the stage.

  At the front of the room, Vince was already leaning against a wall and swigging from a can of Mountain Dew. His long butterscotch-blond hair was tied in a ponytail, and beads of sweat shone above his emerald-green eyes. He was dressed in black jeans and a black suede vest, with no shirt. His perfect tan and sculpted muscles seemed out of place in the dead of winter.

  He hugged Skye and shook hands with Simon. “I didn’t see you guys arrive. How long have you been here?”

  “About a half hour,” Skye answered. “The band sounds wonderful.” The group had only been together for six months. She was surprised at how much they improved with every performance.r />
  “Thanks. Big crowd tonight. I thought between the snow and the murders, no one would come.” Vince crushed the soda can. “I hear you and Dad found the bodies. You okay? Mom says Dad’s been real quiet.”

  “Dad’s always quiet. I’m fine, but it was an awful experience.”

  Simon put an arm around her. “Skye’s had a rough few days.”

  “So I hear. A surprise houseguest, a bad cold, and a couple of dead bodies. Not your run-of-the-mill week in Scumble River.”

  “True. Thank goodness.” Skye moved closer to Vince. “You always know all the gossip. Who was Ken Addison’s latest lover?”

  “Funny you should ask. That’s been quite a topic of conversation at the shop.” When he wasn’t drumming, Vince owned and operated the Great Expectations Hair Salon.

  “And?”

  “And no one seems to know.” Vince smirked. “Man, that guy was a sleaze. He must have screwed half the women in town, and a good percentage of those in the surrounding area.”

  “You haven’t exactly been a monk yourself,” Skye said. “Shall I start naming names?”

  “Hey, I’m not like him. According to what I hear, sex was more addicting than heroin to that guy.” Vince looked at his watch. “Time to get back on stage. See you later.”

  “What do you make of that?” Skye asked Simon as they headed toward the back of the room.

  “If Addison was the sex junkie Vince thinks he was, it’s odd that all of a sudden he started being discreet about his love life.” They had reached the bar. “Do you want something?”

  “A diet Coke.” Skye nodded toward the rest rooms. “Try and find an empty table. I need to use the facilities.”

  As usual, there was a line in front of the ladies’ room. Skye leaned against the wall and concentrated—she had waited too long and now she really had to go. A familiar voice penetrated her meditation. It couldn’t be, could it?

  “My philosophy is never pass up an opportunity to pee,” Bunny confided in a loud voice to the woman standing behind her, before disappearing into the rest room.

  How had Bunny gotten to the dance? Skye had a bad feeling she was about to find out. It was her turn to go in the bathroom next.

  The ladies’ room was tiny. Two aqua metal cubicles took up half the space; a sink with a mirror and a folding chair occupied the rest. The walls had been painted a hideous stomach-medicine pink.

  Bunny stopped primping and waved when Skye came into view. Skye fluttered her fingers in acknowledgment as she hurriedly entered the stall. She hoped Bunny would be gone by the time she finished using the toilet, but the older woman was still there when she came out.

  Bunny made room for her at the sink. “I bet you didn’t expect to see me here.”

  “You’d win that bet. How’d you get here?”

  “Your sweet Uncle Charlie was kind enough to escort me.”

  “He called and asked you out?” Skye would need to have a talk with that man.

  “Actually”—Bunny applied mascara to lashes that already were already black and gooey—“I asked him. At first he said he was too old for this kind of nonsense. But I told him that once you’re over the hill, you’re supposed to pick up speed, not slow down.”

  “Oh.” Skye washed her hands and reached for a paper towel.

  Bunny put away her makeup bag, then swung a leg up on the chair’s seat to adjust her nylons. “You know, men and pantyhose have a lot in common.”

  “They do?”

  Bunny said with a straight face, “Yeah, they both either droop, run, or don’t fit in the crotch.” Skye burst out laughing, and Bunny slung an arm around her. “Let’s go find the boys.”

  The “boys” had found each other. Simon and Charlie were sitting at a table for four. Skye noticed Simon was drinking a glass of wine. Since he usually stuck to diet soda, he probably already knew about Bunny’s presence.

  As Skye and Bunny approached the men, Nate Turner barreled in front of them, trailed by his wife, who wore a short see-through lace dress and stiletto sandals.

  Bunny frowned, and Skye could almost hear her thoughts. Compared to Polly’s flashy outfit, Bunny’s red spandex tube dress and leather bolero jacket looked tame.

  Turner ignored Simon and the women, and concentrated his wrath on Charlie. “Patukas, what’s this crap about you running for Imperial Brahma Bull?”

  Charlie pushed back his chair. “You got a problem with that, Turner?”

  “Yeah, I do.” Turner poked Charlie in the chest with his index finger. “You’re going to split the vote and let that horse’s ass Ginardi win.”

  “Funny.” Charlie rose to his full six feet, towering over Turner, who was broad but not tall. “That’s what he said about you.”

  Simon got up and stood beside Charlie.

  “You better watch it, Patukas.” Turner continued to jab his finger into Charlie. “You’re not the big shot you used to be.”

  “And you never were.” Charlie took Turner’s finger and bent it back. Sweat popped out on the other man’s already flushed face, and he tried to back away. Charlie growled, “Never, ever touch me again.” Suddenly Charlie released Turner’s finger, and Turner staggered.

  Polly rushed, up and took her husband’s arm. He shook her off like a dog getting rid of a flea and stomped away. She tottered after him at a prudent distance.

  Charlie turned toward Skye and Bunny as if nothing had happened. “Ladies, just in time. You both look gorgeous.”

  Simon shot Bunny a hard look. “I was surprised when Charlie told me you were here.”

  “You know I hate to miss a good time.” Bunny moved closer to Charlie and hugged his arm.

  “Even if it means ruining someone else’s.” Simon walked to the opposite side of the table.

  The four of them stood there, an awkward quartet. Skye searched for something to say. Nothing came to mind.

  Bunny didn’t seem to have the same problem. “So, who was The Blob, and why was he threatening Charlie?”

  While Charlie explained the situation to Bunny, Skye quietly said to Simon, “You know, it’s possible that Turner killed the Addisons over this grand pooh-bah thing. And if that’s true, Charlie could be in danger.”

  “Turner does seem to be a loose cannon. But do you really think being elected the head of a small-town organization would be enough motive for murder?”

  “Who knows? I wonder if he had any other reason to dislike Dr. Addison.”

  “Hey, you two, did you come here to talk or to dance?” Not waiting for an answer, Bunny pulled Charlie away from the table and danced him away.

  “If she doesn’t leave town soon, I’ll be the one committing murder,” Simon said, gritting his teeth as he and Skye sat down.

  “Just be patient. You said yourself that she never stays long. All you have to do is wait her out.” Skye had decided not to mention that Bunny was hunting for a job in town. “You know, maybe you should give her another chance. For your sake, if not hers.”

  “No. Dad and I gave her a hundred chances to straighten out. She blew every one of them.”

  “Well, maybe instead of wanting her to ‘straighten out,’ you could just accept her as she is, and have a relationship based on that.”

  “Why should I?” Simon’s expression was stubborn, like that of a disappointed four-year-old.

  “In my experience, getting rid of emotional baggage is always a good thing.”

  Before he could respond, Polly Turner sidled up to their table and said to Simon, “Would you dance with me?”

  He threw Skye a quizzical look, and she nodded. “Sure. It would be my pleasure,” he said.

  Skye tapped her fingers on the table. That was odd. Nate Turner did not impress Skye as the type of man who would allow his wife to dance with other men. Something was up. A shadow loomed over her, and she sucked in a loud breath.

  “I want to talk to you,” Nate Turner demanded.

  Ah, so that was it. Polly had been sent to lure Simon away, and
leave Skye sitting alone. “So talk.”

  Instead, he stared at her chest.

  Skye waited a second or two then said, “Are these your eyeballs? I found them in my cleavage.”

  His eyes snapped to her face. “What’re you talking about? I was just thinking,” he blustered. “You dames are all alike.”

  “Right, and the same could be said for you jacka… gentlemen.” Skye raised an eyebrow. “Now that we have that settled, what did you want?”

  He pulled out a chair and plopped down. “People say you’re pretty good at figuring things out.”

  “Things?” Skye asked.

  “Murders. I hear you solved more cases than Perry Mason before he turned into Ironside.”

  Skye tried to follow the man’s train of thought, but she was afraid it had derailed. “I wouldn’t say that. But, yes, I helped the police out a couple of times.”

  Garlic and beer fumes washed over her as he leaned closer. “I want you to figure out who killed Ken Addison.”

  She scooted away. Barbie’s death was obviously not important to this cretin. “Why do you care?”

  “He was a good friend of mine, a fellow GUMB, and I want justice.”

  “Say I believe that, even for a second. What makes you think the police won’t find the killer?”

  “The police in this town don’t know their ass from a hole in the ground.”

  “Chief Boyd and all the other officers are extremely competent.”

  “It sure doesn’t look that way since a girl has to solve all their really hard crimes for them.”

  Girl! Skye couldn’t remember meeting a more odious person than Nate Turner. He seemed to hate everyone and everything. He treated people like toilet paper, to be used and flushed away. She was beginning to really hope that he was the murderer, and she was the one who pinned it on him. “I appreciate your confidence in me. I’ll do what I can to find out who killed Ken and Barbie Addison.”

  “Good. Let me know what you find out.”

  Skye stared at him and thought, Yeah, I’ll report to you the day you vote for a woman to be president. She chewed her lip. Another faction heard from. First Tony Zello and Bob Ginardi, and now this clown. The GUMBs must have some mighty big secrets they didn’t want brought to the public’s attention.