Dying For a Cupcake: A Devereaux's Dime Store Mystery

by Denise Swanson

  “Life is risky.” Coop moved closer. “That’s why we shouldn’t put off having a good time.” He stared into my eyes. “We need to kick the tires and start the fires.”

  My mouth was suddenly dry. What do you say when a sizzling-hot guy tells you to leap into the flames with him? I so wished that Ronni had come with me. She and the hunky fire chief would make such a cute couple. Before I could come up with an answer to his challenge, “Torn Between Two Lovers” started playing from my skirt. Fishing my cell from my pocket, I edged away from Coop. He opened his mouth to object, but I made a face that dared him to comment.

  When he held his hands up in surrender, I rushed into the bathroom. Closing the door, I swept my finger across the phone’s screen and demanded, “Jake? Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.” His smooth baritone filled my ear. “Sorry I couldn’t call sooner. We caught the Doll Maker, but it took a couple of days to locate Meg. During that time, things were pretty hairy around here.”

  “Is she all right?” I hoped the maniac who had kidnapped his ex-wife hadn’t harmed her. His MO was to carve his victim’s face and body into his twisted idea of the perfect woman.

  “Meg wasn’t sliced up,” Jake assured me. “Evidently, he was saving that until he was able to capture me, too. He wanted to re-create Rodin’s The Kiss.”

  “Yikes!” My heart sank, at the thought of both Jake being hurt and him being in an eternal embrace with his ex. Yes. I am that petty. And the irony of where I was and whom I was with wasn’t lost on me. Clearing my throat, I asked, “But the Doll Maker is back behind bars and Meg wasn’t hurt?”

  “He’s locked away so tight this time even a search-and-rescue dog couldn’t find him.” Jake’s voice exuded satisfaction. “That freak will never see the light of day again.”

  “Thank God!” I paused, then took the plunge and said, “Are you coming back to Shadow Bend soon?”

  “I’m about three hours away,” Jake answered.

  He murmured something, but it didn’t make sense, so I asked, “What did you say?”

  “Nothing.” Jake’s tone was odd. “It was probably the radio. Look, it’ll be late by the time I get home. How about tomorrow I come by the dime store at closing time and take you to dinner?”

  “Great,” I agreed. We said our good-byes and I wondered why Jake sounded so funny. And what radio show broadcast the words “You’re safe, honey. Go back to sleep?”

  EPILOGUE

  Jake dropped his cell back into the cup holder. He’d been relieved to catch the Doll Maker for a lot of reasons. Not the least of which was that in the back of his mind, he’d feared that once the serial killer got bored with Meg, he’d somehow find out about Jake’s relationship with Devereaux and target her next.

  Speaking of Meg, Jake glanced over at the passenger seat. His ex-wife’s eyes were closed, but even dozing, she twitched and jerked, making frightened mewling sounds as she fought the demons in her dreams. Bringing her to Shadow Bend was going to cause a lot of problems. Tony hated Meg and he’d be infuriated that Jake intended to install her in the spare room.

  Hell, Jake didn’t like his ex-wife very much, either, and he wasn’t sure why he’d stepped in to help her. Except she had nowhere else to go and no relatives or even friends willing to take responsibility for her.

  Meg had been virtually catatonic since they found her strapped to a cot in a self-storage locker. The doctors had said that there was nothing wrong with her physically, but that she needed rest and time to recover emotionally. If Jake hadn’t volunteered to bring her home with him, she would have had to be put in a nursing home. She would have been at the mercy of strangers, with no one to make sure the staff was treating her okay.

  Jake looked at his ex. She was a shell of the woman he’d divorced. Always petite, now she was emaciated. She moaned, and Jake patted her knee. His touch seemed to calm her.

  Swinging his gaze back to the road, he wrinkled his brow. Surely, Devereaux wouldn’t hold Meg’s presence against him. Jake smacked his forehead with his palm and groaned at his own stupidity. What girlfriend would understand when the guy she was dating brought his ex-wife home to live with him? Meg could very well cost him his future with Devereaux. And wouldn’t that be a kick in the pants? The woman who dumped him when he was injured in the line of duty might once again ruin his life.

  Turn the page for a preview

  of Denise Swanson’s brand-new mystery

  in the Scumble River series,

  Murder of an Open Book

  Available in September 2015 from Obsidian

  in paperback and as an e-book.

  Skye Denison Boyd adjusted the straps of her bathing suit, then kicked off from the edge of the swimming pool. Her goal was to make it to the other end without losing her breakfast. Not that a couple of soda crackers and a cup of tea was much of a meal, but that was all she’d been able to tolerate in the mornings for the past month. And some days, even the saltines didn’t stay down.

  Refusing to think about tossing her cookies—or to be more specific, crackers—Skye concentrated on improving her butterfly stroke. Seven years ago, when she first returned to her hometown and started working as a psychologist for the Scumble River School District, she had swum most weekday mornings and often on Saturday and Sunday as well. In the summer, she used the local recreational club, a lake formed from a reclaimed coalmine. And when it was cold, she’d do laps in the high school’s highly debated pool.

  Due to the source of its financing, the swimming pool was a hot topic among the Scumble River citizens. A while back, the district received some extra tax money from the construction of a nearby nuclear power plant, but instead of buying more up-to-date textbooks or employing additional teachers, the school board had spent the funds on athletic equipment and a pool.

  The board members had been hoodwinked by a fast-talking salesman and a group of parents with their own agendas. It was the one time in anyone’s memory that the board president, Skye’s godfather, Charlie Patukas, had lost a vote. Because of that, she’d always felt a little guilty when she used the facility.

  Those ambivalent feelings had helped her make excuses to skip her daily swims until she rarely, if ever, swam at all. But a couple of months ago, after returning from her honeymoon, Skye had vowed to get back to her previous exercise routine. And a little bit of nausea was not going to stop her. Besides, the doctor had said that swimming might actually help the morning sickness.

  Which reminded her, when she wiggled into her maillot at home, she’d noticed a definite baby bump. Up until now, because of her already generous figure, there hadn’t been much danger that anyone would notice the three or four extra pounds she was carrying. Evidently, that anonymity was about to end. She and her husband, Wally, would have to make some kind of announcement soon or speculation would sweep the town. Scumble River’s main drag wasn’t known as Blabbermouth Basin Street for nothing.

  Skye and Wally’s motives for keeping mum about the blessed event were due in part to Wally’s concerns about revealing the pregnancy prior to the completion of the first trimester. Furthermore, they hadn’t wanted to take the spotlight away from Skye’s brother and sister-in-law’s baby shower, which was scheduled for Saturday.

  However, the most compelling reason for them to keep quiet as long as possible was Skye’s mother. May had a tendency to be a bit overbearing, okay, a lot overbearing. And as soon as she found out her daughter was pregnant, she would try to take over her life. Compared to May, DB Cooper was an amateur hijacker.

  Skye’s mother had waited a long time for grandchildren. Both Skye and her brother, Vince, had married relatively late—Skye had been thirty-six and Vince nearly forty—which meant May had been ready to be a grandmother for close to twenty years. And although Skye hoped her mother would be distracted by Vince’s baby, she was pretty darn sure May would find the time to drive her da
ughter crazy as well. As an equal opportunity meddler, May would make sure neither of her children felt neglected. She wouldn’t want either of them to think the other was her favorite.

  Wincing at the thought of her mother’s reaction to her pregnancy, Skye reached the opposite end of the pool. Performing a perfect flip turn, she started back, happy that she felt less queasy and determined to put May out of her mind.

  Willing herself to relax and enjoy the sensation of the water sliding over her skin, Skye focused on her dolphin kick. Because the butterfly was one of the most exhausting strokes and she hadn’t yet rebuilt the strength to swim more than a few lengths of the pool before having to rest, she wanted to put the time she had to the best use.

  March in Illinois had been chillier than usual, but in the heated pool, Skye could pretend that she was back on her honeymoon. Even though the cruise had been full of surprises, including a dead body, she and Wally had both been able to unwind from their demanding lives and have an unforgettable trip.

  Wally, as the chief of the Scumble River Police Department, had been badly in need of a break. Although the town’s population was just a shade over three thousand, between the devious mayor and several murders, the community in no way resembled Mayberry. Which meant Wally’s work was no Andy Griffith kind of job.

  Skye’s position as the sole mental health professional for the entire school district kept her stress level in the head-about-to-explode range as well. Add planning a wedding during the frantic Christmas holidays and her psych consultant contract with the PD, and she, too, had been more than ready for a vacation.

  Their honeymoon had been wonderful, but now that they’d been back for two and a half months, Skye had a feeling that their downtime was about to end. This was the final week before spring break, which in Skye’s world meant frazzled teachers and students with cabin fever.

  For Wally, kids out of school required preparing his officers for hordes of unoccupied teens with way too much time on their hands. Not many Scumble River families could afford to take off from their jobs and jet off to Florida or the Caribbean. So while they were busy making a living, their offspring were often left unsupervised and looking for something to do.

  Skye finished her fifth lap, and as she rested against the side of the pool, she checked the clock on the far wall. It was only six thirty. Staff was required to be on duty at seven twenty, while students started their school day at ten to eight. Allowing half an hour to style her hair, slap on some makeup, and put on her clothes, she had fifteen minutes before she had to get out of the water and start to dress.

  Because of her nausea, Skye had been up an hour before her normal time, and she’d gotten to the pool much earlier than usual. When she turned into the school’s driveway, there hadn’t been a single car in the parking lot. Even the custodian’s old red Silverado pickup wasn’t in its usual spot by the Dumpster yet.

  She’d used her key to enter the back door of the empty building and made her way to the gym. The only way into the pool area, except for an alarmed emergency exit, was through the student locker rooms. As she passed through the girls’ side, she’d stripped off her sweat suit and placed it and her duffel on one of the benches. The locked bag held what she would need to get ready for the school day, as well as her purse and the tote bag full of files she’d brought home on Friday to work on over the weekend.

  Most mornings there were other staff members using the pool, but because she’d arrived so early, the place had been deserted. At the time, even though Skye knew she shouldn’t swim without a buddy, she’d been happy to have the water to herself. It was nice not to have to worry about colliding with another swimmer or slowing someone else down. But now, it felt as if she was no longer alone. Had someone else arrived to take a preworkday dip?

  Skye glanced from side to side. Almost the entire wall of the pool enclosure was made up of frosted blue safety glass. She squinted. Was that someone peering through the partition? She called out a greeting, but no one answered. That was odd. Maybe whoever it had been had gone into the locker room. Her imagination must be getting the best of her.

  She shoved her swim goggles up on her head and looked around for a second time. With the exception of a couple of safety rings and a pole with a hook on the end leaning against the wall, the area was empty. Taking a deep breath, she tried to calm her racing heart, but the scent of chlorine overpowered her. Uh-oh! Now she felt queasy again.

  Swimming over to the ladder, Skye had just begun to climb out of the pool when she thought she heard retreating footsteps. A chill ran up her spine. Had someone been watching her? No! That was silly. Why would anyone spy on her? Was pregnancy making her paranoid?

  Skye shook her head at her own foolishness and heaved herself out of the pool. She hurried into the locker room and peeled off her swim cap. Catching a glimpse of herself in a mirror, she sighed. While the cap kept her hair dry, it also left it a snarled mess. Bending over, she ran her fingers through her long chestnut curls in an attempt to fluff out the strands.

  She was busy trying to work out a particularly stubborn tangle when a hand descended on her shoulder and someone snapped, “You need to leave immediately.”

  Skye screamed.

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