Skye nodded. She should have guessed. There were only two things that would make her mother lose her temper to that extreme. One was to insult her culinary skills. Still, she thought there had to be something more for May to waste good food. “What else?”
May suddenly found the area she had began to sweep fascinating. She answered without lifting her gaze from the broom. “She called you fat.”
Ah, the second thing that would cause May to lose her temper—an insult to one of her children.
Skye put her arm around her mother and teased, “Then she has to die. Shall I take care of it or will you?”
May shook with giggles. “I think that’s a mother-daughter activity. We’ll do it together.”
It took Skye a good hour to calm her mother, help clean up and restock the booth, and then stop at her parents’ house to wash and change clothes. It was nearly eleven a.m. by the time she returned to the sale.
She still had not spoken to either Wally or Cookie about Mrs. Griggs. Her walkie-talkie was connected only to Dante and the high school kids she had hired for toilet paper patrol, so she couldn’t contact Wally by that method. She decided to head back downtown, make a quick stop at the police department, and then go on to the Cookie’s Collectibles table.
Wally was not at the station, but the dispatcher agreed to radio him to meet Skye at the Lemonade ShakeUp. That way she could check up on the school newspaper’s stand at the same time, and as an added bonus it was directly across the street from Cookie’s.
Skye enjoyed zipping around on a golf cart rather than having to maneuver her bulky Bel Air. As she rolled around the corner onto Maryland, she waved to a flock of teenagers who stood in a blankly staring row, too cool to wave back. It was always interesting to see if anyone would acknowledge her presence. No luck today. None of them so much as twitched a muscle or flicked a lash.
She was shaking her head at the thought that these were all kids who had snuck into her office to talk to her at one time or another but who wouldn’t admit her existence outside of school, when she heard the first howl. It sounded like it was coming from farther down the street. She stepped on the accelerator, and the little cart shot forward.
The noise grew as she neared the end of the block. There, once again, in the middle of a free-for-all, was Faith. She had changed clothes after the food fight and now, dressed in a fresh suit, stood in front of a table constructed from saw-horses and pieces of plywood.
It was clearly a makeshift stand where a local was selling items from his attic or basement. There was no rhyme or reason to the stuff being offered—bedpans were stacked next to strings of Christmas lights, and old doorknobs filled beer steins.
Faith and a woman wearing a Harry Potter T-shirt, green polka-dot shorts, and laceless tennis shoes, and sporting a fluffy red bow in her hair, were in a tug-of-war over what looked like a life-size plastic statue of Dennis the Menace.
People had chosen sides and were cheering for their favorite. Faith had the numbers behind her, but Miss Red Bow’s supporters were more vocal. One of that faction screamed, “Give it up, TV star. Ain’t you got enough stuff? Let one of the little people have something.”
Faith never lost focus, and with one mighty tug she pulled the prize from her opponent’s hand. In doing so she landed on her derrière in the dirty street, but she quickly hopped up, dug a roll of money from her pocket, and shoved a five-dollar bill at the awestruck seller. Yelling “Keep the change” over her shoulder as she hurried away.
Skye could see the price tag clearly marked “$3”. She could also see the huge dirt stain on the seat of Faith’s expensive lilac skirt. Now Skye understood why the celebrity traveled with so much luggage; she obviously went through an outfit an hour.
No one appeared to be hurt, and Miss Red Bow’s followers were consoling her, so Skye ran after Faith. When she caught up with her, the TV star was stashing the treasure in the back of the Land Rover, one of the few vehicles allowed on the closed-off street.
“What was that all about?” Sky asked.
Faith’s tone was cool. “It’s nothing. A misunderstanding.”
“Wrestling someone for a plastic doll is nothing?”
“I had my hand on the piece when that creature tried to steal it from beneath my very nose.”
“So, you both tried to pick up the same item at the same time,” Skye persisted. “What’s so important about it?” She could see a struggle going on behind Faith’s eyes. “Go ahead. You know you’re dying to tell me.”
Faith gave a tiny shrug and said, “Alright. Why not?” She brought out the article in question and pointed. “This is an original 1950s fiberglass statue of Speedy, the Alka-Seltzer boy. Smaller figurines similar to this one routinely go for three hundred to five hundred dollars. I can easily get four or five thousand for one this size.”
“And you only gave the seller five dollars?”
“It was nearly double what he was asking for.”
Skye shook her head. She knew she’d never be able to explain morality to Faith. “Did the other woman know its value?”
“Please.” Faith gave her a mean smile. “Considering her appearance, no doubt she thought it was a garden gnome.”
Skye decided not to go down that path, considering her own mother’s predilection for dressing a concrete goose. Instead she said, “Look, if I catch you disrupting the sale one more time, I’ll have to bar you from it.”
Faith sneered. “I rather doubt your mayor would allow that.” She turned to her crew, who had gathered while she and Skye were talking. “I’ll meet you back here after lunch,” she told them. “I need to go change.”
As the star left, Kirby Tucker, the writer, stage-whispered to Jody Iverson, Faith’s personal assistant, “I thought she had to wait for a full moon to do that.”
Jody snickered and they strolled off.
Skye had finally connected with Wally and they were strolling among the mob that engulfed the corner of Maryland and Kinsman streets, taking in the sights. So far they had seen a guy with a dining room table strapped to his back and a woman trying to pile the matching chairs on top, an elderly man screaming at his wife, who was in the midst of selling his dentures, and a child standing on a sale table with a sign around his neck that read, MAKE ME AN OFFER!
Skye really hoped that last one was a joke, but since Wally didn’t seem concerned, she didn’t investigate. Besides, she had to concentrate on getting Wally to help Mrs. Griggs.
“And after the Virgin Mary disappeared, Mrs. Griggs got a call saying she was next.” Skye paused to take a bite of her hot dog. After she chewed and swallowed, she demanded, “How can you say she’s not in any danger?”
“I didn’t,” Wally replied. “What I said was there isn’t much I can do about it. Her house is outside my jurisdiction.” Stopping to inspect a group of teens who had surrounded one of the sellers, he caught the eye of their leader and shook his head. A moment later the kids had miraculously melted into the crowd, and he continued, “McCabe suggested she stay with someone for a while, but she refused to budge. The sheriff’s department can’t very well put a guard on her twenty-four seven, especially with the yard sale going on.”
Skye knew Wally was right. “So, there’s nothing the police can do?”
“Not until a crime has been committed.” Wally took a gulp of his lemonade. “The county dispatchers were told to keep an eye out for her number, and the deputies were told to take extra swings by her house, but that’s about it.”
“Did anyone talk to Cookie?”
“Of course, but she denies everything.”
“I have a bad feeling about this.”
“Me, too.” Wally ran his fingers through his hair. “Mrs. Griggs isn’t the only one who has complained about Cookie.”
“Really? What else has she done?”
“Mostly it seems she gets obsessed by something and can’t let it go. I don’t think she’s very stable.” Wally’s attention was drawn to the line in front
of a Port-A-Potty, where several men were shouting at each other. “I’d better go break that up.” He gave her an affectionate smile and a one-armed hug before sprinting off.
Skye frowned. Why had Wally suddenly started touching her so much? And why didn’t she tell him to stop? Was her attraction to the police chief growing? She’d thought she had those feelings under control. And what about Simon?
Before she could figure out an answer, she noticed someone familiar in the center of the toilet dispute. Wait a minute. Wasn’t that Nick Jarvis? She shook her head. Those TV people couldn’t even go to the bathroom without causing a commotion.
Skye’s talk with Wally had increased her determination to have a chat with Cookie, but once again the shop owner’s tables were swamped with customers and she was manning them alone. Skye bit her lip. She’d just have to wait. In the meantime, maybe she could fulfill her promise to Simon and check in on Bunny.
Skye retrieved the golf cart from its parking spot near the Lemonade ShakeUp stand and headed down Basin Street toward the bowling alley. As she neared the Altar and Rosary Society barbecue tent, she heard a familiar British accent and slowed down.
Faith had cornered Alma Griggs between the cashier and the entrance.
Skye pulled up just in time to hear the TV star say, “But, my dear, it is of paramount importance that you allow me a glimpse of your fabulous home. I have it on good authority that you have some spectacular objets d’art from around the world.”
“No.” Mrs. Griggs frowned and seemed to be staring at Faith’s chest.
“I could pop in for just a moment, any time that’s convenient.”
“What part of ‘no’ don’t you understand?” The older woman craned her neck, still appearing to be looking at the celebrity’s chest.
“But—”
Skye hopped out of the cart and cleared her throat. She tried to make out what Mrs. Griggs was looking at, but all she could see was a lilac suit jacket and Faith’s long black hair.
Faith glanced at Skye, then thrust a card into the older woman’s fingers. “I implore you, ring me up before you allow anyone else to make an offer.” With a pious look she said, “You know, there are some unscrupulous dealers around who won’t play fair with you as I shall.”
Skye snorted, and Mrs. Griggs let the bit of pasteboard fall to the ground. Faith’s face flushed an unbecoming shade of terra-cotta before she stomped off.
One of the unsuspecting Altar and Rosary ladies called to her as she walked in front of the cashier’s counter, “Miss, wouldn’t you like a nice barbecue lunch?”
The TV star turned on her. “Are you mad? I wouldn’t eat this slop if you offered me an original N. C. Wyeth. You people seem to think the only spices in the world are salt, pepper, and ketchup.” Her expression furious, she stormed off.
“Oh, my.” The church lady picked up a paper fan and waved it vigorously in front of her face.
Skye asked Mrs. Griggs, “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. I just wish I knew why everyone is suddenly so interested in my things.”
“Maybe it’s time to bring in a professional appraiser.”
Mrs. Griggs nodded. “I’ve made an appointment for a week from Monday.”
“Good.” Skye waved good-bye. “I’ll see you later.”
Skye glanced at her watch. It had been nearly an hour since her last attempt to talk to Cookie; maybe she’d be a little less busy now. Bunny could wait.
Making a three-point turn, Skye went back down Basin and turned onto Maryland. Cookie had a prime location on the corner in front of her store. The crowd had thinned a little, but there were still quite a few people browsing.
While Skye parked the golf cart, she made a decision. This time she would wait and nab Cookie the second she had a free moment.
At the booth, Skye scanned the length of the tables and spotted Cookie near the far end talking with someone. Although Skye couldn’t quite see who the other person was or hear what was being said, she was pretty sure they were arguing, since Cookie was shaking a finger and her face was beet red.
Skye tried to edge around the large man obscuring her view, but as he turned and saw her, recognition dawned in his eyes. “Miss Denison, I haven’t seen you since February. Where you been keeping yourself?”
She groaned to herself, but pasted a smile on her face and tried to gauge his mood. Nate Turner was one of the more volatile parents she worked with. “Oh, here and there. How’s Nathan doing?”
“Great. That program you recommended straightened him out. He’ll be back at school this year.”
“Good.” Skye tried once again to get past the man’s bulk. “Tell him if he needs anything, just stop by my office or put a note in my box.”
“I’ll do that.” Nate awkwardly patted her shoulder. “Thanks.” He waved and moved on.
Skye scooted into the space he had vacated, but whoever had been quarreling with Cookie had gone, and all Skye saw was Cookie sitting alone with tears streaming down her face.
CHAPTER 9
Car 54, Where Are You?
“It was so frustrating.” Skye twisted the telephone cord as she lay across the bed in her old room at her parents’ house, talking to Simon. “When I finally got to speak to Cookie, all I ended up doing was consoling her.”
“Why? What happened?”
Skye had already told him about Mrs. Griggs’s break-in and the older woman’s fear of Cookie. “It was sad. After how awful Cookie was to me in June, I never thought I’d feel sorry for her, but I do.” Skye pictured the shop owner huddled on a folding chair, sobbing. “She just kept saying over and over, ‘Everyone I’ve ever loved or trusted has betrayed me.”’
“But what does that have to do with Mrs. Griggs?”
“That’s the frustrating part. All Cookie would say about her was that sometimes when she really wants something, like to see the contents of Mrs. Griggs’s house, she can’t stop herself from going after it, again and again, even when she knows it’s useless and she should quit.”
“She sounds a little unstable.”
“That was definitely my diagnosis, and that’s what Wally said, too. Seems Mrs. Griggs isn’t the first person she’s done this to in Scumble River.”
“But the police can’t arrest Cookie for anything?”
“Nope. It’s doubtful Mrs. Griggs could even get a restraining order. And it complicates matters that her house is now outside the city limits.” Skye carefully phrased her next statement. Simon had gotten a lot better about her investigations, but she knew he still worried about her. “You know, the sheriff won’t take the same kind of personal interest Wally would take. That’s why Mrs. Griggs wants me to help her.”
There was a long pause before Simon asked, “What are you going to do?”
“I really don’t know, but after the yard sale I’ll figure something out.”
“I’ll help you when I get back.”
“Thanks.” Skye stroked Bingo’s soft fur as he nestled against her side and he started to purr in his sleep. Somehow Simon’s kindness was making her feel worse. Maybe it was because she’d been feeling more and more attracted to Wally.
“You’ve certainly had a busy day, what with that TV star’s antics and Mrs. Griggs’s problems.” Simon’s voice dropped a notch. “Too bad I’m not there. I’ll bet a massage or a moonlight swim would lower your stress level.”
“Now you’re just being mean, tempting me with something I can’t have.” Skye’s thoughts flew to a few weeks ago when Simon had borrowed a friend’s cabin in Wisconsin and they had spent most of a long weekend indulging in those activities. She’d had a good time, but even then, deep in her heart, she’d felt something was missing.
“Do you want me to come back? You said you didn’t mind me being gone, but if you need me …” Simon’s voice trailed off.
“Like I said before, we wouldn’t have any time together. Anyway, where would you stay? Your house is uninhabitable by now. And I know you’ve been
looking forward to seeing your old friend. Besides, you promised to be Spike’s partner in that bridge tournament next weekend. You can’t back out on that.”
The words rushed out, surprising Skye. She paused. Didn’t she want Simon to come home? Of course she did. It was just … just that she didn’t want to ruin his trip. That was the reason. She was almost sure of it. Realizing the silence was growing awkward, she hurried to fill it by changing the subject. “Are you having a good time at the convention?”
“It’s always interesting to see the new merchandise that’s being offered,” he replied. “Today I bought a license plate holder that says MY OTHER CAR IS A HEARSE.”
“You aren’t going to put that on your Lexus, are you?”
“Maybe,” Simon teased, then turned serious and asked, “You didn’t get a chance to check on Bunny, did you?”
“No, I’m sorry. I tried a couple times, but kept getting waylaid.” Skye felt guilty. She knew Simon was worried about his mother. “Before I knew it, it was five o’clock and I had to meet Mom for Mass, since we’ll both be tied up tomorrow morning and won’t be able to go then.”
“That’s okay. I know you’re busy. Whenever you get a chance is fine.”
“I’ll do it sometime tomorrow for sure.”
They talked for a while longer, then Simon said, “I better let you go so you can get some sleep. It must be nearly midnight there.”
Skye swallowed a yawn. “Yep, it’ll probably be another long day tomorrow. But I’m sure things will go better.”
Six a.m. Skye heard the back door snick closed as her father left the house on his way to his daily visit with his mom. A half hour later, the door shut again. This time it would be May leaving to help set up the Denison/Leofanti booth, which was opening at seven rather than eight like the rest of the sale. The two families had decided to sell coffee and homemade donuts to the presale crowd, which consisted mostly of vendors and a few buyers who would also arrive early to beat everyone else to the treasures.
Murder of a Smart Cookie Page 8
