Trixie continued as if Skye had answered her. “Where did Beau live?”
“He had a townhouse in the new development by the I-55 exit.”
“Did the police search it?”
Skye shrugged. “I would assume so, but I don’t know for sure. I’ll have to ask Wally.” Skye tapped her chin with her index finger, thinking. “But I bet he wouldn’t keep Bingo there. Someone might see him.”
“So, where?”
“I’ll have to think about it.”
“Okay.” Trixie opened the car door. “I’ll see you tomorrow at school.”
“Bye.” Skye waited for Trixie to get out, waved, then backed up and took off for home.
The phone was ringing when Skye walked into the house, and she hurried to answer it before her machine picked it up.
Wally’s sensuous baritone rewarded her efforts. “Hi there. Are you hungry?”
His question reminded her that she had skipped lunch, and her stomach growled in response. “Starving. Why?”
“I’m at the new Chinese place. How about I bring over takeout?”
Skye paused. A part of her was still smarting from her encounter with Simon. His accusation about dating Wally so soon after their breakup had hit a nerve. Maybe she should call a halt to things with Wally for a while.
Wally interrupted her deliberation. “Mmm. The smell of the hot and sour soup is making my mouth water.” Even if she disregarded the Simon issue, she had wanted to slow things down between her and Wally, discourage casual evenings together and only see him for regular dates.
Wally broke into her thoughts again. “Wow, they just gave me a taste of their egg rolls. They’re amazing.” Skye admitted defeat. Wally had zeroed in on her weak-ness — Chinese food — and her craving won out. “Sounds wonderful.” She could already taste the chicken-fried rice.
“Great. See you in twenty minutes.” Skye frowned at the receiver. He hadn’t asked what she wanted. Should she call him back? No. She smiled. This would be a test. He claimed they already knew each other well. If that was true, he should know exactly what to order for her.
Her smile faded as she realized that she was dressed in torn sweats, her hair was a mess, and she reeked from her workout. Taking the stairs two at a time, she ran into the bathroom. Stripping, she leapt into the shower, then stood there panting. Phew. She was out of condition. Time to get back to swimming in the mornings.
A quick lather and rinse, and Skye jumped out of the shower. As she struggled to get the comb through her wet hair, she realized drying it was out of the question; there simply wasn’t enough time. Instead she secured the sides with faux tortoiseshell combs and left the rest in damp curls down her back.
Next, what to wear? Nothing that looked as if she had gotten dressed up just for him. She took a mental inventory of her closet, settling on forest green jeans and a cashmere sweater of the same color.
Skye slapped on moisturizer and applied mascara, then started to file her broken nail. As she finished evening out the ragged edges, the bell rang.
When she opened the door, Wally was leaning against the jamb holding two plastic shopping bags. He was still in uniform, but had taken off his tie and utility belt and unbuttoned his collar.
His grin flashed briefly, dazzling white against his olive skin. “Ready for dinner?”
“Sure.” Skye gulped. “Come on in.” His smile was irre-sistible. “Go ahead into the sunroom. I’ll get the silverware and plates.”
He strolled into the foyer. “Sounds good.”
“What do you want to drink?”
“Got any beer?”
“Budweiser okay?” Skye asked. It was the brand her father drank, and the only one she kept in the house.
Wally nodded, but Skye noted a slight curl to his lip.
What kind did he usually drink? She couldn’t remember ever seeing him with a bottle in his hand.
As she went into the kitchen, she thought to herself, That lack of basic personal information goes to prove that I’m right; we really don’t know each other well enough yet. We need to take things slow, no matter how strong the physical attraction.
When Skye entered the sunroom, she found Wally sprawled on the wicker settee, TV remote in hand, watching the Weather Channel. She put the tray she was carrying on the glass-topped coffee table and asked, “Expecting a storm?”
Wally clicked off the television, his expression sheepish.
“No. I just find the music on that station relaxing. It helps me shut off my mind after a long day.”
“Oh. You know, I have some relaxation tapes I use with the kids, if you ever want to borrow them.” Skye took a seat in the armchair next to the sofa and started to arrange silverware, napkins, and drinks on the table. “Unfortunately, I haven’t found anything that helps me turn off my thoughts.”
“That sounds like a challenge.” Wally’s tone was light but held a hint of seduction.
His teasing excited her, despite her best intentions to maintain a casual atmosphere. She took a deep breath and tried to get the evening back on track. “So, what did you get for supper?”
Wally reached into the bag and drew out a round cardboard container. Steam rose as he pried off the lid and handed it to her. “Hot and sour, your favorite, right?” Skye nodded, inhaling the heady scent of the spices before dipping her spoon into the rich brown liquid. How had he known she loved that soup?
Between spoonfuls, Skye told Wally about her conversations with Jess Larson and Joy Kessler. As she finished the last tidbit of silky tofu, she said, “So, do you think Priscilla Van Horn was being blackmailed by Beau, too?”
“That would explain the sense of fear I got from her when I interviewed her yesterday.” Wally’s hand disappeared into the plastic sack and pulled out a waxed paper packet that he handed to Skye. “I got egg rolls since they were so good, and the restaurant didn’t have pot stickers.
Hope that’s okay?”
She had already bitten into the crispy appetizer, so she could only nod.
“I’ll have to go back and talk to Priscilla again, but I don’t think she or the other dissatisfied customers are our killers.”
Skye swallowed. “Why?”
“Both Jess Larson and Joy Kessler indicated they weren’t currently being extorted by Hamilton, which makes it sound as if he didn’t try to keep getting money from his victims —
one score and he moved on to another mark.” Skye nodded. “True, both made it sound like it was only a onetime deal — because he had messed up on the work he was doing for them, and didn’t want to either give their money back or have them tell other potential clients what a screwup he was.”
“Which probably means that if Larson, Kessler, or Van Horn wanted to kill him, they would have done it when he first shook them down.” Wally extracted two white cartons from the second plastic bag. “Empress chicken, and shredded pork with plum sauce. I know you like them both, so do you want to share?”
“Mmm. Yes, please.” Skye scooped a portion of each onto a plate and pushed the containers back to Wally, who did the same. “I wonder who else he was blackmailing.”
“I’ll take a look at his business records and talk to anyone else whose job he didn’t complete, but you were his most current client. Did he try holding anything over on you?”
“Nope.” Skye considered sharing her theory about Bingo’s disappearance, but she was afraid Wally would think she had gone over the edge. Instead she said, “That reminds me, did you or the sheriff search Beau’s place?”
“We both did.” Wally stabbed a baby corn with his fork.
“Only his house? Did he have an office or someplace he did business out of?”
“Nothing on record. Why?”
“Anything interesting at his house?”
“There was a desk and filing cabinet, which we emptied, but it was all business records, nothing personal. Other than that, just the usual bachelor stuff. Pizza cartons and beer cans piled everywhere, porno magazines an
d videos, and lots of unwashed clothes and dishes.”
“No drugs?”
“Nope.”
Skye drew her brows together. “Doesn’t that indicate he wasn’t using or selling?”
“To me, yes. To Peterson? No.”
“Any indication he had a pet?” She tried to slip that question in under Wally’s radar.
“No.” He shot her a sharp look. “Only the two-legged variety. His black book was crammed full of names like Bambi, Kat, and even a Fifi.”
“Why am I not surprised?” Skye was silent as she sa-vored the last bite of shredded pork. She could just picture the parade of poodle-perfect women in and out of Beau’s life. “Did you check out all the girlfriends?”
“I sent Quirk to talk to the women listed in Hamilton’s address book, and I talked to the ones Alana’s boyfriend indicated were Hamilton’s most recent conquests.”
“Did either of you come up with anything?” There was something she had wanted to ask Wally about Beau’s girlfriends. What was it?
“No, both Nikki Price and Yolanda Doozier had ironclad alibis. Nikki was in the hospital getting her breasts enlarged, and Yolanda was in court all afternoon testifying at her brother’s DUI trial. After that, the whole clan went to Chili’s for supper, and the serving staff vouched for them. Said they were unforgettable.”
Skye grinned. “I’ll bet they did.” The Doozier family was a legend in Scumble River — colorful and boisterous didn’t begin to describe them. She could certainly believe that they would be well remembered wherever they went.
Wally grinned back, having had his share of encounters with the Dooziers, too.
There was still something she couldn’t put her finger on.
What was it? No. It wouldn’t come to her. Hoping to trigger her memory, she asked, “Wasn’t there a third girlfriend you mentioned before?”
Wally handed her a fortune cookie. “Yeah, but she claims she wasn’t dating Beau, she had only met with him to do some work on the house she just bought. She only relocated here in June.”
Skye had started to tear open the cellophane on her cookie, but froze when Wally mentioned the woman moving into town only a few months ago. “Was her name Raette Craughwell?”
“Yes. Why?”
“I met her today.” That was what had been bothering her.
Wally had mentioned Raette the night Beau had been killed.
“She registered her daughter for school.” Wally frowned. “But if they’ve been here since June, why didn’t the girl start school a month ago?”
“Her mom was homeschooling her. She . . .” Skye started to explain about the girl’s troubled past, but stopped herself just in time. She couldn’t share confidential information with Wally, but she had to say something. He was staring at her, waiting for her to continue. “Uh, so, do you believe Raette’s story — that she was only seeing Beau for home repair?”
“I guess so. Shouldn’t I?”
Skye was torn. She needed to think before she answered him. Spotting his empty beer bottle, she grabbed it and stood up. “Let me get you another Bud. I’ll be right back. Keep that thought.”
Wally narrowed his eyes, but let her go without commenting on her odd behavior.
She hurried to the kitchen, trying to get her thoughts in order. First, Raette was somehow involved with Beau.
Maybe she really was a prospective client, but maybe not.
The whole situation didn’t feel right to Skye.
Second, Raette’s daughter wanted to move to Scumble River. Since there was nothing in the town to attract a teenager, Skye was betting Xenia had somehow found out who her dad was and that he lived in the area. Considering her plan for the other girls to commit patricide, the teen plainly had father issues.
Third, Beau had been murdered. Could Xenia have been his killer?
Skye bit her lip and paced. What should she do? She could only break confidentiality if the girl was a danger to herself or others. Was she a danger? If she had already killed Beau, she had been a danger, but wasn’t now. Shoot! What was the right thing to do?
Before doing anything irrevocable, Skye had to find out for sure who Xenia’s father was. If it was Beau, then she’d decide what her next step should be, but for now she’d keep her mouth shut. She needed some real evidence before she took such a big step.
Having sorted out what she would do, Skye grabbed a beer for Wally and rejoined him in the sunroom.
He raised an eyebrow. “Did you decide to tell me or not?”
“Not.” She handed him the bottle and headed back to her chair. “At least not now.”
Wally captured her hand as she edged past him, and pulled her down next to him. “Why wait?” Skye tried to put some distance between them, but the settee was built for two, with no room left over. “Because I’m not sure, and before I break confidentiality I need to be positive.”
“I understand.” Wally’s thumb made circles in her palm.
“I don’t like it, but I understand.”
“Thank you.” She was intensely aware of his seductive touch. “I promise to tell you as soon as I can.”
“I trust you.” His arms encircled her. “And I hope you know you can trust me.”
Was he talking about the case or her heart? She wasn’t thinking clearly enough to sort it out, but she made one last stab at putting the brakes on her desire. “Actually, I’m sort of surprised that you’ve told me so much. Don’t police have to keep information confidential, too?”
“It’s not part of our ethical code of conduct, if that’s what you mean.” Wally hugged her tighter. “We swear to get the guilty off the street and protect the innocent. We’re free to use any legal methods to do that. So if I think going over the case with you will help me catch the bad guy, I’m free to do so.”
“Oh.” She relaxed against him; her head fit perfectly in the hollow between his shoulder and neck. “Good.” His hands crept under her sweater, caressing the planes of her back. A small voice was trying to tell her to stop him, but she shivered at the pleasure of his touch, and the voice became fainter.
His lips came coaxingly down on hers and she drank in the sweetness of his mouth, forgetting Simon, forgetting her resolve to take this relationship step-by-step, forgetting her determination not to leap into the fire pit of temptation. She discovered she had no willpower when she was floating on cloud nineteen.
There was a dreamy intimacy to their kiss now, and caution had completely fled from Skye’s thoughts. She undid the remaining buttons of his shirt and pressed her hands to the warm muscles of his chest.
As he paused to slip her sweater off, a loud thud res-onated over their heads, followed by the sound of glass shattering.
“What the hell?” Wally leapt from the settee, his hand going automatically for the gun at his hip — the gun he wasn’t wearing. Swearing, he leaned over, pulled up his pant leg, and released the pistol strapped to his ankle.
Skye pulled down her top and jumped up after him. “I think it came from the bedroom that’s right above this room.”
Wally nodded. “Stay here and I’ll go check it out.” Skye shook her head. “I’m coming with you.” He sighed and handed her his cell phone. “If there’s a problem, press nine and say, ‘Officer needs assistance.’
Keep behind me.”
They proceeded silently out of the sunroom and up the stairs. The door was ajar on the bedroom she indicated and Wally eased it open with his foot, as he and Skye stood off to the side. He cautiously looked around the corner, then inched forward.
Skye followed. There was no one in the room, but a ceiling-high stack of boxes had fallen over onto a dresser, which had upended, shattering the attached mirror. Everything lay in a jumbled mess on the hardwood floor.
“Shit!” Skye’s cry of frustration slipped out. “I worked all Sunday night sorting that stuff in those boxes.” Wally put a finger to his lips, but patted her shoulder sympathetically.
After searching the rest of
the house and finding no evidence of an intruder, Wally said, “I’m glad your father decided to board up your windows.”
“Yeah, like you didn’t put that bug in Mom’s ear.” He smiled innocently and didn’t comment.
She had almost forgotten about her suspicions, but remembering made her decide not to tell him that she suspected someone could still get in through the exposed roof.
He’d only insist she stay somewhere else, and that wasn’t going to happen. Besides, another day or so and Dulci would have the roof done anyway.
They had returned to the room where they started and were looking at the mess when Wally said, “The boxes must not have been stacked evenly.”
“I guess. But if that’s the case, why did they fall at this particular time? It’s not as if we had an earthquake or anything.” It seemed that whenever she and Wally got past a certain point of intimacy, something happened to stop them.
It was almost as if the house didn’t want them to be together, or at least wanted them to take it slow. Skye shook her head.
Now she really was being silly.
Wally shrugged. “Let’s walk around the outside and see if we can spot anything.” He took Skye by the hand and led her out the front door. As soon as they got past the threshold, his cell phone began to ring.
Pressing the button, he barked, “Boyd here.” He listened, then said, “No, my phone’s been on. I must have been in a dead zone. Okay. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Tell Quirk not to notify the sheriff’s department.” He clicked off and turned to Skye. “Alana Lowe is being taken to Laurel Hospital. It looks as if she tried to commit suicide.”
20/20 Hindsight
“What happened?” Skye demanded, running after Wally as he hurried toward his squad car.
“A neighbor found her lying unconscious on the couch with an empty bottle of prescription sedatives on the floor next to her.”
“Was there a note?”
“No.” Wally flung open the cruiser’s door.
“Maybe I should go with you, so Alana won’t be alone when she wakes up.”
“Neville’s been contacted and is meeting the ambulance at the hospital.” Wally pressed a quick kiss on Skye’s lips before she could say anything more, then got in the car. He rolled the window down and shouted as he started to pull away, “I’ll call you as soon as I know more about Alana’s condition.”
Murder of a Real Bad Boy Page 18
