Vince took up a position on the other side of the bed and cleared his throat. “I told them Superwoman couldn’t be stopped by a single bullet.”
It took close to an hour to calm her mother down, but after talking to Skye, May seemed to feel a little better.
After a while, Skye asked her father and Vince to step out of the room, and when she was alone with May she said, “I take it you and Dad made up.”
“Yes. When we got word you had been shot, we rushed to the hospital, and since we had a long time together with nowhere to run away to, we finally talked. I explained that I needed more of his attention, and he said that if anything else went wrong with Bunny’s car he’d get someone else to work on it for her.”
“Good.”
“Best of all, he promised to fix the toilet in the big bathroom this afternoon.” May’s expression was dreamy.
Skye smiled. Fixing a toilet might not seem romantic for most people, but for her mom and dad it was as loving as roses, champagne, and candlelight.
May kissed Skye on the cheek. “I’d better let some of your other fans in to see you.”
“Love you, Mom.”
“Me, too, honey.”
Skye’s godfather was next. Then Trixie came in with Justin and Frannie. The teenagers were holding hands. Skye exchanged a look with Trixie, who gave a barely discernible shrug.
Trixie hugged Skye’s good side. “Why didn’t you call me? I could have gone with you.”
“Do you really think she’d have confessed in front of both of us?”
“Well, no,” Trixie admitted. “But I could have been your backup.”
“I think the police were enough.”
“Then why did they let you get shot?” Trixie demanded.
Skye thought about asking Trixie how she would have stopped Faith’s bullet, but decided not to. Instead, she said to the teens, “It looks like you two have made up.”
Justin turned red, but didn’t drop Frannie’s hand. “Yeah, we’re cool.”
Frannie beamed. “Dad and I are going to drive Justin over here to get his license on Thursday. His father can’t drive anymore, and his mom doesn’t like to leave the house.”
Justin shifted from foot to foot, looking uncomfortable with Frannie’s garrulousness. Finally he said, “So, uh, you’re really alright, Ms. D?”
“I’m fine.” Skye wondered how Justin’s reticent nature and Frannie’s lively personality would mesh as a couple. She hoped a little of each would rub off on the other, but in her experience that rarely happened.
“Uh, then, when you’re all better, do you think I could interview you for the school paper?” Justin stepped closer to the bed. “I think you’d make a way cooler story than Ms. Caldwell.”
“Thanks. I’m really flattered, but I kind of like keeping a low profile. You know what I mean?”
He frowned but nodded. “I get it. The stealth psychologist, right?”
“Right.”
Trixie turned to the teens and said, “I need to talk to Ms. D alone for a minute. I’ll meet you in the waiting room.”
After they left, Trixie turned to Skye. “You’ll never guess what Owen did this morning.”
Skye was almost afraid to ask. “What?”
“He sold all the livestock.”
“Wow!”
“And he brought me a dozen roses, a box of Godiva chocolates, and tickets for a weekend getaway to Lake Tahoe.”
“Wow!” Skye felt like a parrot, but she didn’t know what else to say.
“He said your being shot made him realize that we couldn’t save everything for a rainy day, and that working all the time for the future isn’t a good idea because you don’t know how much future you’ll have.”
“That’s terrific.” Skye smiled. At least her injury had proven useful in mending the relationships of all the warring couples in Scumble River.
“I’d better go. Uncle Dante is outside, and there’s a guy in a suit waiting to see you, too. Both of them are starting to get impatient. Do you need anything?”
“I forgot to ask Mom. Could you have her call me with Simon’s friend’s phone number? It’s on a pad on the desk in the kitchen.”
“Sure. Do you want me to call Simon?”
“No, I missed him Saturday night and left a message, and I’m guessing he left a message last night, so we need to actually talk.”
“Okay. Then shall I send in your uncle or Mr. Suit?”
“Uncle Dante.” Skye narrowed her eyes. “And he better have my checks.”
Trixie grinned and hurried out the door.
A few seconds later Dante came in scowling. “Are you okay?”
“I will be after you pay me.” Skye had learned she had to be as curt as he was when she dealt with her uncle. Otherwise he would walk all over her. “Did you bring my checks?”
“Here.” He thrust them at her. “Won’t do you any good, though. Those asses you rent from sold the cottage right out from under you.”
“What?” Skye fell back against her pillows, feeling faint. “They promised to give me until September first.”
“Did you get it in writing?”
She shook her head, a sinking feeling in her stomach. “They said their word was their bond.”
“Please.” Dante snorted. “You didn’t fall for that, did you?”
Skye cringed. She really was a trusting fool. “How did you find out?”
“When your mom told me you were hurt, I got in touch with the real estate agent to make sure you didn’t miss your deadline, since I wasn’t sure when it was.”
“That was so sweet of you, Uncle Dante. Thank you.” Skye was taken aback at his thoughtfulness.
“I didn’t want anyone taking advantage of my niece.” He shrugged off her thanks. “The agent said you never put in a formal offer or a deposit, and this morning, right before I called, the owners agreed to sell it to someone who bid twenty percent over the asking price.”
“Shit!”
“Shit is right. You’re too trusting to live.” Dante shook his head in disgust.
“Is there anything I can do?”
“Yeah. Next time you want to buy real estate, let me help you.” He headed for the door, then turned back and said grudgingly, “The yard sale was a big success. If you want the coordinator job next summer, it’s yours.”
Skye gasped. “Not if you doubled my salary and got Brad Pitt as my assistant.”
“Don’t be too hasty.” Dante pushed through the door, saying as it closed, “We’ll talk about it again later.”
“No, we won’t!” Skye shouted after him, then leaned back on her pillows and thought about how much she was looking forward to going back to school. The routine would be so soothing after the craziness of the summer. She drifted into a daydream of sitting in her office at the high school and writing a report, everything calm and under control.
Her reverie was interrupted when the man Trixie had mentioned entered. “Good morning, Ms. Denison. You’re a difficult person to locate.”
“And you are?” The guy looked like a lawyer, and Skye wondered if Faith was suing her for burning her with the bleach.
“I’m Pruett Canfield, Alma Griggs’s attorney.”
“Oh.” Skye straightened, and a pain stabbed through her arm.
“I’m here to inform you that Mrs. Griggs changed her will a few days before she died and made you her sole beneficiary,” Canfield explained. “I just got back into town yesterday and learned she had been murdered, which is why you weren’t notified earlier.”
Skye was dumbfounded. “She left everything to me? Why?”
“She was sure you were her deceased daughter reincarnated.” The attorney looked ill at ease giving that explanation.
“I told her that wasn’t true.”
“So Mrs. Griggs said, but she still believed it. She had no one else.”
Skye wiped her eyes. She was not going to start crying. “I don’t know what to say.”
“T
he bulk of the estate is property—her house, its contents, and the land. There’s a small life insurance policy that will scarcely cover her burial, but no other liquid assets.” Mr. Canfield adjusted his tie and looked at his shoes. “And then there is the matter of the back taxes.”
“So, I shouldn’t quit my day job.”
“No. In fact you might want to take a second one.” The lawyer showed a flash of humor, then sobered. “Perhaps that’s why she left her estate to you. It was a way for her to feel as if a part of her would live on. The house is in poor shape. If you don’t pay the taxes and restore it, there’s a good chance the state will tear it down and sell the land to get its money.”
Skye was silent and Mr. Canfield finally said, “When you’re feeling better, please make an appointment. We need to go over matters more fully and sign some papers. Meanwhile, if you want to arrange for the funeral, I’ll approve the cost.”
“Thank you.” Skye shook his hand. She slumped back onto her pillows as he left. What a bizarre day. First she lost her beloved cottage, then she inherited a huge, dilapidated house. What was she going to do? Could she ever live in a house in which a murder had been committed? She bit her lip. Yes, she could. Mrs. Griggs would certainly never haunt her. The old woman had trusted Skye, and Skye wasn’t going to let that grand old house be torn down.
When Wally came into the room a little while later, Skye pretended to be asleep. Things had gotten out of hand. Wally had said a lot while waiting for the ambulance, but he hadn’t expected her to answer. Now he would, and she had to talk to Simon before she gave Wally any answers. She was torn between the two men and she needed time to sort out her feelings.
Wally stayed for several minutes, touched her hair and kissed her softly on the lips, then left. Almost immediately the phone rang. It was May with Simon’s friend’s number.
After copying it down, Skye looked at the wall clock. It was noon here, so ten a.m. in California—a good time to call.
She dialed and waited. On the third ring a female voice answered.
Skye frowned. Did she have the wrong number?
She said, “Hello, is Simon Reid there?”
“I’m sorry, he’s in the shower.”
“How about Spike Yamaguchi?” Had Simon mentioned if his friend Spike was married?
“This is she.”
Skye froze, then quietly hung up the phone and lay back, stunned. This certainly put a different twist on things. She would never have thought Simon capable of being unfaithful, but what other explanation could there be?
Signet
Denise Swanson
The Scumble River Mysteries
When Skye Denison left Scumble River years
ago, she swore she’d never return. But after a
right with her boyfriend and credit card
rejection, she’s back to home-sweet-homicide.
MURDER OF A SMALL-TOWN HONEY
MURDER OF A SWEET OLD LADY
MURDER OF A SLEEPING BEAUTY
MURDER OF A SNAKE IN THE GRASS
MURDER OF A BARBIE AND KEN
MURDER OF A PINK ELEPHANT
MURDER OF A SMART COOKIE
MURDER OF A REAL BAD BOY
MURDER OF A BOTOXED BLONDE
MURDER OF A CHOCOLATE-COVERED CHERRY
MURDER OF A ROYAL PAIN
Available wherever books are sold or at
penguin.com
S394
Murder of a Smart Cookie Page 25
