In the three months they’d been in school this year, she’d already tested twenty-nine kids, and had at least that many coming due for reevaluation. Heaven only knew how many new referrals the year would bring. And they would all need reports written about them. She suffered from permanent writer’s cramp, and longed for a computer.
Skye had finished one report and started on another when there was a knock on her door. She looked at the clock. The afternoon had flown by. The dismissal bell must have rung a few minutes ago without her noticing.
She quickly closed the files she had spread out over her desk, turned her legal pad over, and checked that her visitor could see nothing confidential. Only then did she call out, “Come in.”
Frannie Ryan, followed closely by Justin Boward, swept through the door and flopped into the visitor chairs facing her desk.
As usual, Frannie spoke first. “We’ve got to tell you something.”
Justin sat forward. “We heard some kids talking, and it could be a clue to the murders.”
Skye asked, “What did they say?”
Frannie looked at Justin. “You go first.”
“Bert Ginardi was talking to some of his buddies in the locker room while I was changing for PE.”
“Is he Bob Ginardi’s son?”
Justin said, “Yes. He’s always bragging about how rich and successful his old man is.”
“Go on.”
“Anyway, as usual Bert was me-deep in conversation and didn’t notice me.” Justin checked to see that Skye had caught his witticism. She smiled and he continued, “He said that his mom and dad were in this group that did some kinky kinds of sex stuff.”
“Mmm.” Skye wasn’t sure how to respond to that, but since both teens were looking at her, she tried to seem interested without being too interested.
“What got my attention was when they said that the Addisons had been in the group, too.”
“Did they mention any other names?” Skye asked.
“No. They were headed in one direction, and I had to get to class in the other.” Suddenly Justin pounded his knee with his fist. “I think talking about your parents that way should be a smiting offense.”
“It feels like a betrayal, huh?” Skye knew from Justin’s home situation that the subject of parents was a touchy one for him. His father had a chronic illness, and his mother was clinically depressed.
Frannie didn’t wait for Justin to respond. “And I heard a girl talking to her friends about this party her parents were having tomorrow at nine o’clock. She was saying it was too bad her folks were making her stay at her grandma’s house, or she could get some really incriminating pictures of the town’s leading citizens.” Frannie twirled her hair. “By the way they were giggling, and the stuff they were saying, it’s got to be the same group as the one Justin heard the boys talking about. How many sex perverts can there be in Scumble River?”
That was a question Skye didn’t want to think about, let alone discuss with a sixteen-year-old. “But tomorrow’s the night before Thanksgiving,” she said. “That’s an odd time to hold that kind of get-together.”
“No,” Justin chimed in, “don’t you see? That’s the perfect time to hold a sex party. Everyone’s so busy, and lots of people are coming and going and visiting.”
Skye nodded. He was right. No one would notice anything funny going on, because they’d all be occupied with the holiday. Another thought occurred to her, and she asked, “Who was the girl?”
Frannie shot Justin a calculating glance. “Bitsy Kessler.”
He frowned. “Why didn’t you tell me that?”
“I’d explain it to you, but your brain would explode,” Frannie taunted, the look of hurt on her face contradicting her tone.
Uh-oh, trouble in paradise. Frannie might actually have to admit she likes Justin as more than a friend, or she’ll lose him to Bitsy.
“Well, you two sure have come up with some interesting information,” Skye said, “but the more I think about it, the more I’m convinced this isn’t something we can write about in our school paper. Anyway, this probably has nothing to do with the murder.”
Justin stood up so suddenly his chair wobbled. “That’s bogus!” He stalked out of the office.
He was right, and Skye felt like a phony saying it, but she had to keep these two from investigating and stumbling into a dangerous situation.
Frannie stayed seated. “You know this is important.” She gave Skye an evaluating look. “You just don’t want us involved. You think we’re babies.”
“I don’t know how to say this without sounding preachy, but you really have no idea what you might be getting your-selves into.” Skye tried to make the girl understand. “Even if it weren’t dangerous, and it is, the whole situation is just so sleazy …”
“I hear what you’re saying, but you don’t realize how much sleaze teenagers are exposed to every day. Ever watch one of the popular music videos?” Frannie got up and started to leave. She paused with her hand on the knob. “Hey, I got a different question.”
“Okay.”
Frannie didn’t look at Skye. “What do you do when your boyfriend walks out on you?”
This was not what Skye had been expecting, although considering the Bitsy issue, she should have been prepared for it. “There’s not much you can do.” She searched her mind for good advice. “The only thing is to make really, really sure he’s gone before you close that door.”
“Why can’t I stay with Skye?” Bunny whined from the backseat of Simon’s Lexus. “It’s not like she’s home much anyway.”
Simon kept his eyes on the road, and didn’t respond to his mother’s complaints.
Skye bit her lip to stop herself from explaining just why she had rarely been in her cottage since Bunny’s arrival. Recalling the older woman’s histrionics while they were packing her up and getting her into the car, Skye decided silence wasn’t just golden, it was platinum, at least in this situation.
When Simon turned left on Basin, Skye noticed that the main street had lost its snow-induced shine and had begun to look shabby again. At six o’clock, most of the businesses were closed, and the only lights came from the restaurant, the bowling alley, and the four taverns.
When the traffic signal on Basin changed to green, Simon turned left again. The buildings on Kinsman were dark, too, until they neared the bridge. The Up A Lazy River Motor Court glowed brightly on the left side, and the Brown Bag’s neon signs shone on the right. Skye briefly wondered how the new owner of the liquor store was doing. That had to be a tough business to run.
Simon pulled into an empty parking spot in front of the motor court’s office, and cut the engine.
Bunny started to cry. “Sonny Boy, how can you be so cruel to your mama?”
Simon ground out through clenched teeth, “Don’t call me Sonny Boy.” If Bunny didn’t leave soon, he’d end up at the dentist with TMJ.
He got out of the car and Skye met him at the office door. She glanced at Bunny, who remained in the Lexus, hunched over and crying. “What should we do about her?”
“Let’s get her checked in, then worry about it.” Simon’s tone was grim.
The cowbell over the door clanged as they entered. Moments later, Charlie appeared from the back living quarters, wiping his hands on a red-and-white-striped dishtowel.
His frown turned to a sly grin when he saw Simon and Skye. “Do you two need a room?”
Skye felt her face flush. Pretty soon someone would start a pool as to when they would get married, or pregnant, or both.
Simon arched an eyebrow and said, “As a matter of fact, we do.”
“Ah, huh?” It was Charlie’s turn to look chagrined. “I mean, what’s going on?”
Skye took pity on her godfather. “We’re checking Bunny in. Mom told me yesterday you had a vacancy.” It hit her that they should have called and told him to hold the cabin for them. “You still have it, don’t you?”
“Sure.” Charlie went behin
d the counter. “May had me reserve it for Bunny.”
“How does she do that? I don’t remember telling her we were moving Bunny tonight,” Skye muttered.
“Who knows?” Charlie shrugged. “May has her sources. You might have mentioned it to Wally, who talked about it at the police station. Or Simon could have said something to someone who told May in passing.” Charlie took out the sign-in book and handed Simon a pen. “Shall we make this official?”
While Charlie and Simon took care of the business end of things, Skye shed her coat and rested her bottom against the registration desk. She scanned the small office.
A couple of months ago, she had talked Charlie into redecorating. The drab brown walls had been painted a lighter cocoa and hung with oak-framed hunting and fishing prints. Taupe Berber carpeting had replaced the old flooring, and a new ceiling fan had been installed.
Over massive protests, Skye had convinced her godfather to refinish the wooden top of the checkin counter, and now it gleamed in the overhead light. He had balked at replacing his desk chair, so she’d had the seat padded and the wood refinished.
Charlie grumbled at the waste of money, but she had caught him beaming when people complimented the motor court’s new look. Next, she would have to see what she could do about getting him to update the guest cabins’ interiors.
The telephone rang, and as Charlie answered, he handed Simon a key attached to an oval plastic holder. It had the number three printed in white on one side, and lettering on the other that advised anyone finding it to drop it in the nearest mailbox and postage would be paid by the addressee.
Skye waited in the office while Simon went outside. She had no desire to accompany him as he attempted to pry Bunny from the backseat of his car.
While Charlie was occupied by the phone call, Skye noticed how much better his color looked than in recent months when summer and various aggravations had made his blood pressure soar. Now he seemed more like his usual self. His doctor—thank goodness neither Zello nor Addison—had prescribed a new medicine, change in diet, increased exercise, and decreased stress. Even though Charlie had ignored most of the advice, his last appointment showed his blood pressure was back within a safer range.
In order to distract herself, and fight the temptation to see how Simon and Bunny were faring, Skye dug into her purse until she found her makeup case. She added a little eye shadow, brushed her lashes with mascara, and put on a new coat of lipstick before returning the small black bag to her tote.
Charlie unwrapped a cigar and put it between his teeth. She tapped her fingernails on the counter to get his attention, and shook her head when he looked up. He was not supposed to smoke.
He covered the mouthpiece on the receiver and snapped, “For crying out loud, I’m not lighting it.” Charlie banged down the phone. “You’re as bad as your mother.” He heaved himself out of the protesting chair and hugged her. “Anything going on at school I should know about?” Charlie was the president of the school board.
He always squeezed too tight. She hugged him back and said, breathlessly, “I don’t think so. But we really need a social worker. Any luck in hiring one?”
Releasing her, he headed toward the connecting door. “We’ve been trying. The few who apply and are qualified say we aren’t offering enough money for all the problems they’d have to deal with.”
Skye frowned. “Then raise the salary.”
Charlie ignored her statement. “What’s happening on the Addison murders?”
“Not much. So Ken stayed here a lot?”
“He’d check in for a couple or three hours, once or twice a week.”
“Who was his latest companion on these little rendezvous?”
Charlie walked over to her and shook his finger in her face. “You know I don’t kiss and tell. I’m kind of like a priest or a doctor.”
“Sure,” Skye wheedled. “But this is different. She could be the killer.”
“Really, I don’t know. Ken’s last lady friend never came into the office, and she was real careful to make sure no one saw her coming or going.”
“I thought you told me when I first moved back here that there wasn’t a person in Scumble River who didn’t know every last detail of their neighbor’s business,” Skye said. Her voice took on a cajoling tone. “There must be something. Some little thing you noticed.”
Charlie started to shake his head, then stopped. “Well, once, I did find one of those fake nails among the dirty towels from their cabin.”
“Did you save it?”
“Nah. I tossed it in the trash.”
Skye sagged. “Shoot.”
“Hey, I remember it had something special about it. But what?” Charlie stroked his chin. “Ah, I know. There was a tiny parrot painted in the center.”
“Interesting.” Skye considered the suspects. Who wore false nails done up that fancy? Yolanda and Bunny came to mind, but Bunny had just arrived in town, and Yolanda claimed her fling with Addison was long over. Besides, Yolanda wasn’t married; she’d have no reason to keep her affair a secret. Skye’d have to keep an eye out for anyone else.
Charlie interrupted her thoughts. “So, who do you think the murderer is?”
“Nate Turner.” Skye moved toward the door. “Not that I have any reason to single him out, but if I could choose, he’d be my favorite candidate for a life sentence.”
“He’s an ass, alright.” Charlie helped her into her coat. “He sure wouldn’t have any problem killing someone who got in his way. And he’s strong as an ox, so he is certainly capable of strangling them both to death.”
“Good point.” Skye’s smile turned sickly. She had blocked out of her mind how the Addisons had been murdered. “I’d better see if Simon and Bunny are okay.”
Skye was surprised to see mother and son still sitting in the Lexus. Simon seemed to be staring out the windshield. Bunny was talking. Simon got out of the car as soon as he saw Skye. Bunny rolled down her window. Clearly, she didn’t want to miss any of the conversation.
“What’s going on?” Skye asked Simon.
“She refuses to get out of the car.”
“I’ll bet I know why.” She moved Simon away from Bunny’s earshot and whispered in his ear.
Bunny popped out of the car. “What? What?” She trotted back and forth between the two of them like a puppy that had to pee.
Simon held her still by placing a hand on each of her arms. “I’ll pay for your stay at the motor court if you promise not to contact me, and if you leave as soon as the police say it’s okay.”
Bunny started to sob. “Why are you treating me like this? All I want is to spend some time with my only son.”
“If you don’t agree, Skye and I are getting into my car and driving away, and you’ll have to pay for your own room or spend the night outdoors.”
“Okay. You win.” Bunny’s shoulders slumped. “Which cabin is mine?”
“Number three.”
She turned to Skye. “If anyone calls for me, about a job or anything, you’ll give them this number, right?”
Skye felt a tug at her heart. “Sure.”
Simon’s expression was hard to read as he retrieved Bunny’s suitcase from the trunk. Bunny trailed him as he walked to cabin three. He opened the door, put the bag inside, and handed his mother the key. He let her hug him, then said, “Good-bye.”
Silently Simon returned to the car, and he and Skye climbed inside. He started the engine and turned left out of the parking lot. “How about dinner at the Shaft in Clay Center?” he suggested.
Clearly Simon did not want to talk about what had just transpired. Skye decided to go along with him. “My mouth is watering for that chicken already.”
They were silent as the miles clicked by. Finally Skye couldn’t stand it. “Maybe I should have let her stay with me.”
“No.” He sighed. “This is my problem. You need her out of your hair.”
Skye opened her mouth to protest his statement, but closed it w
ithout speaking. He was right. It was a relief to think of having her cottage to herself. And Simon would need to work out his relationship with Bunny himself. There wasn’t anything Skye could do to help.
CHAPTER 16
I do not love thee, Dr. Fell.
—Thomas Brown
Skye spent most of Wednesday with a smile on her lips and a song in her heart. For some reason a tune kept playing in her head. It went something like “Ding, dong, the Bunny’s gone.”
By the afternoon it was clear nothing much would be accomplished at school that day. Everyone’s thoughts were on the upcoming long holiday weekend. Skye gave up trying to see students or consult with teachers, and instead sat in her office at the high school writing reports. She was nearly caught up and would start testing again on Monday morning.
As soon as the bell rang, she locked away her files and checked her appointment book to see what was on her schedule for Monday. Since she would be starting the day at the high school, she didn’t need to take anything home with her except the student newspaper story ideas.
She shoved those in her tote bag, put on her coat, and walked out to her car. The parking lot was already nearly empty. As Skye got into the Bel Air and turned on the engine, she considered her mental To Do list.
Both Zello and Turner had called her that morning to see if she was making any progress with the investigation. Neither man was happy with her answer, but she had assured them she was still working on it.
With Bunny moved into the motor court, she could finally concentrate on the murders. The question was: Who did she want to talk to first? And the winner was—Tony Zello. Darn. She should have set something up during their phone conversation that morning. Now she didn’t know where to reach him.
He wouldn’t be at his medical office. No doctor worth his prescription pad worked on Wednesdays. But it was obviously too cold to be golfing. Where would he be?
From what the Bettes said, he wasn’t the type to spend much time at home with the wife and kiddies. He was much more likely to be somewhere with the “boys.” But where?
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